


Scents And Scentability

by Cerdic519



Series: The Dashwood Inheritance [2]
Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen, Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Betrayal, Claiming Marks, Crobby - Freeform, Cuddling & Snuggling, Destiel - Freeform, England (Country), Espionage, F/F, F/M, London, M/M, Marriage, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death (referenced), Money, Napoleonic Wars, Omega Castiel, References to Jane Austen, Scenting, Sense and Sensibility - Freeform, Wrecked Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 43,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9146032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ASense and SensibilityDestiel (yet further apologies to Jane Austen). It is 1809, and the world watches with interest as the all-conquering Napoleon faces increasing difficulties with his 'Spanish ulcer. In England, young omega Castiel Dashwood has had to suffer not only the death of his father Lord Charles, but worse, his orphanhood has set in motion a chain of events that will end in him, his mother and his brothers moving to Devonshire and their distant relation Sir Robert Middleton's estate. But not before Sir Robert's friend Mr. Dean Ferrers calls in to see them - and when Dean meets Castiel, it turns out that the handsome blond alpha is the dark-haired omega's True Mate.There is just one problem. Dean is sort of pledged to marry someone else......





	1. Norland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phantazmagoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantazmagoria/gifts), [Tisha_Wyman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tisha_Wyman/gifts), [MelodyofWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyofWings/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Lord Charles Dashwood's death, his daughter-in-law Lady Lilith shows all the tact and compassion one would have expected from her (i.e. none) and evicts Charles' widow Mrs. Rebecca Dashwood and her three sons – Castiel, Gabriel and Samandriel – to a small house on the estate so she can enjoy Norland Park all to herself. Then things get worse.....

Norland Park was undeniably one of the premier estates in the fair county of Sussex, situated as it was just to the east of the small market town of Rotherbury. For the past twenty-nine years it had been the property of Lord Charles Dashwood, who as our story begins is making the short trip between the great house and the nearby church. Unfortunately – from his point of view – he is doing it from inside an oak coffin. 

That a beta like Charles ('Chuck' as he had preferred to be called, to the amusement and/or bafflement of the locals) had succeeded at all was, it should be said, a triumph against the odds, for Norland was one of those estates that was preference-entailed, which is lawyer-speak for a title which passes to alphas before betas, and after his birth his father and mother had proceeded to have eleven more children. But Charles had managed to beat the odds; not one of his siblings was an alpha, which meant that in the year 1780 he became the new Lord Dashwood. 

Lord Charles' efforts to secure his bloodline had met with what might charitably be called mixed results. When he was nineteen he had married one Miss Tessa McKeon, an Irish gentlewoman worth some five thousand. It was a happy match even though the new Lady Dashwood was unable to have children, but sadly she died in the fierce winter of 'Seventy-Two.

The nobleman's second venture into matrimony had occurred just over a year after his first wife's death, and was with one Miss April Roper, a local woman from Selsey with less than a thousand to her name. What she lacked in wealth she lacked even more in any sense of decorum; the marriage did produce a son and heir – an alpha whom they named Raphael – but was stormy and tempestuous, which ill-suited the nobleman's generally passive nature. Few were surprised when Lady April eloped with a handsome army colonel, and they sailed for the Americas only for their ship to founder in a storm with the loss of all hands. 

Few thought that, with an alpha heir to his name, Lord Charles would venture onto the stormy seas of matrimony a third time, but after twelve years of being single he was visited by a friend of his first wife, a Miss Rebecca Rosen, and the two bonded over a common interest in writing truly dreadful stories. After only a few months they were married; the new Lady Dashwood was a complete bird-brain, yet somehow her nature complimented that of her husband, and they were very happy together. There was one rocky spell for much of the first year of the marriage when it was feared that Lord Charles was suffering from a similar madness to that affecting the poor king, but after a twelvemonth of worry he recovered, and his wife subsequently bore three sons, all omegas; Castiel (born 1789), Gabriel (born 1793) and Samandriel (born 1795). As the intelligent reader will have already worked out, Lord Charles had a strong passion for angel lore.

+~+~+

In that fateful year of Seventeen Hundred and Ninety-Two, young Lord Raphael was presented just after his eighteenth birthday, by which time it was clear that the alpha heir took more after his awful mother than his steady if boring father. In particular he was a selfish boy, and as they grew up he was often disdainful towards his omega step-brothers (though he was careful not to so be when his step-mother was around, as she was possessed of a mean right hook that she was not afraid to use). The young man's attitude had become a source of growing anxiety to his father, who knew that given the age difference – the third Lady Dashwood was fifteen years her husband's junior - it would almost certainly fall to his son to provide for her and her children one day.

That same year young Lord Raphael met the female – I shall refrain from using the term 'lady', as I do not wish to stretch the noble English language that far – who would shortly become his wife. Miss Lilith Ferrers was from a noted Devonshire family of whom we will shortly be hearing more of, and following the death of her parents whilst she was still but an infant, had been raised by her aunt Mary and uncle John who had two children of her own, Dean (five) and Samuel (one). One can only presume that these boys must have committed some truly atrocious act in a previous life to merit such an addition to their family. The Ferrers family had come to London for her presentation, and she had left with a future husband, to the surprise of everyone (including the future husband). It might be said that the future Lady Dashwood had her good points, but one would have to be crossing one's fingers whilst saying it. And one's toes, for that matter.

The newly-weds were soon blest, if that is the correct term, with a son whom, following the family naming practices, they named Uriel. It was however an extremely difficult birth, and the doctors advised the couple that trying for any more children could lead to disaster (an uncharitable person might say at this point that the doctors were sparing the human race here, but your author could not possibly comment!). Raphael and Lilith therefore lavished all their care and attention on their beta son, who grew up, I am sorry to say, very much in his parents' image. Sometimes breeding has a lot to answer for.

+~+~+

It would be cruel of me to remark that the new Lady Dashwood was through the door and measuring for new curtains before the funeral was over, so I will not say that. In truth it was actually carpets; the curtains were done a week later. Before dying, Lord Charles had extracted a promise from his eldest son that he would provide suitable endowments for her and her three sons but, human nature being what it is, Lady Lilith had within days of moving into the great house 'persuaded' her husband (reader, you so do not wish me to go into details at this point!) that the definition of 'suitable' could be considerably reduced. Mrs. Rebecca Dashwood moved with her sons into Norland Lodge, a small cottage on the eastern side of the estate, where if straitened she was at least tolerably happy, as she had never been overly fond of the great house. And she was the envy of all her former servants, living beyond screeching distance of the new 'Lady' of the Manor.

It should be said at this point that Lady Lilith would have been perfectly happy to see her husband's step-brothers totally disinherited, but although her husband had many failings (which would need a whole chapter to elucidate), he was an absolute martinet when it came to 'doing things by the book'. That meant that, for an estate the size of Norland, society at large would have frowned mightily on them both had he endowed each of his omega kin with anything less than a thousand pounds, something he could easily afford to do. This left Lady Lilith in a dilemma; she would have begrudged the boys even a penny from Her estate, but she feared the social exclusion that would surely follow if the runts were not adequately provided for. Besides, who then would see and be jealous of all her nice new dresses?

+~+~+

As the omega Dashwoods (and one of them in particular) form the focus of our story, let us take a closer look at them. 

Castiel, the eldest, was nineteen years of age at the start of our story. His most stunning attribute was a pair of startling blue eyes, though this was usually overshadowed by his hair, which seemed to have developed an allergy to any and all attempts to brush it into submission. Of the four Dashwoods at Norland Lodge he was far and away the most learned and sensible, and also the cause of some concern for his mother, as she fretted that an omega his age ought to be out in society where he could catch the eye of a suitable alpha or beta. Castiel was surprisingly strong for an omega, and did most if not all of the physical tasks that needed doing around the cottage. He knew how to take care of himself, as more than one over-eager local alpha or beta had found out the hard way.

Very different was his younger brother Gabriel, some fifteen years of age who, sad to say, had apparently inherited his intellectual capacity from his dear mama (ahem!). His tastes, such as they were, ran more to romantic literature than the sombre studies of his elder brother, and he also had a regrettable tendency towards practical jokes, though less so in recent times against his family. Particularly after the incident with his elder brother, a paint brush, a hard chair and some very strong glue.

The youngest Dashwood was Samandriel (commonly called Alfie, the abbreviation of his middle name), who at thirteen was taller than Gabriel but in the coltish way that teenage youth so often has that made him rather insubstantial. Fortunately he looked up to his eldest rather than his middle brother, and showed some promise that he might not be a total disappointment to their mama.

+~+~+

Tensions between the Mrs. Dashwoods came to a head over an incident that occurred in March, just over a month after the funeral. It arose out of a lie but, as so often happens, it suited one party to pretend otherwise.

The eminently unlikeable Uriel Dashwood, then a little way short of his sixteenth birthday, was occasionally employed as as errand-boy for his mother and father, more often than not against the lazy little tike's wishes. On this particular day his mother had sent him into Rotherbury to fetch some linen she had ordered from a shop there, and the boy had tarried on his errand. Almost fatally so as events transpired; he had been caught in a sudden torrential downpour and arrived home shivering, and had then rapidly proceeded to develop a severe cold. To excuse his tardiness the boy had lied and claimed that he had sought shelter at Norland Lodge, but even though he could see that one of the boys was there, they had not let him in. Lady Lilith was furious, as her poor husband soon found out.

Lord Raphael, even though he was not the brightest button in the box (the English language is groaning under the strain of that remark), could see at once that his son was lying, primarily because the Lodge lay to the north-east of the house, almost directly opposite the road to Rotherbury. But his wife would let him have no peace until he Did Something, which for the sake of his ears and sanity meant that something had to be done. He therefore wrote off a private letter to a man he thought might be in a position to help.

Ten days later, a letter arrived for Mrs. Dashwood at the Lodge. She was surprised to see that it was from Sir Robert Middleton, a rich landowner in north-east Devonshire, whose first marriage had been to her first cousin, Miss Caroline Rosen. This nobleman had been down with the winter flu in recent weeks, and having just recovered had written to ask how she was doing after her husband's passing. And importantly, he extended an offer that if her circumstances were at all straitened, then he had a sizeable cottage on his estate that was at her disposal, and he would be delighted to let her and her sons live there.

Although she had the sympathy of most of the people on the estate – in the words of one, the new Lady Dashwood was about as popular as the Black Death – Mrs. Dashwood at once recognized the benefits of such a move, especially for her family. The Middleton connection would greatly improve her sons' chances of attracting suitable (rich) husbands, as well as the place being a commendable one hundred and fifty miles from a certain shrill harpy. She wrote back that very day to accept. The only slight hitch was that the cottage was in poor condition, and Sir Robert estimated that it would take at least a month to make it suitable for Mrs. Dashwood and her family. Still, at least that would give them plenty of time to prepare for the move. And an additional advantage was that Lady Lilith's cousin, Mr. Dean Ferrers, had been one of the former tenants and was currently in London, and would (if Sir Robert's letter caught him in time) call in on his way home to tell them more about the place. It seemed too good to be true.

Ah........

+~+~+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was not unusual for families to have two or more blood ties, as the different strata of society rarely mixed and many people never left their home village or town. Had Sir Robert been poorer he may well have offered just to have one boy, most likely Castiel, raised in his own house; 'farming' out like that was very common, as the great Jane Austen herself showed in 'Mansfield Park'. Of course Castiel would have been heartbroken to have had to leave his brothers behind.....


	2. A Close Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Mr. Dean Ferrers is less that pleased to receive a letter from his friend Sir Robert asking if he will call in at his cousin's house, and speak to some distant relative that the nobleman has invited to Devonshire to live in the alpha's old cottage. He is sure that he will find little of interest in Mrs. Rebecca Dashwood and her three omega sons, only one of whom has been presented.  
> Ah.....

When Miss Lilith Ferrers became Mrs. Raphael (and later 'Lady') Dashwood, she was in effect exchanging a family that had done poorly in recent times for one that had done well. It was customary at the time for people who benefited in this way to assist their struggling relatives, but bearing in mind this was Miss Lilith Ferrers..... why yes, those pigs are flying rather low, are they not?

The Ferrers family had once been the principal family in the Culm Valley, witnessed by the fact that the valley's largest town, Great Barton, had some little while back been renamed Barton Ferrers. With the sort of irony of which only English history is capable, this had coincided with a slump in the family's own fortunes, caused primarily by the actions of Dean's grandfather Henry. It is said that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and unfortunately for Dean, those of his grandfather had proved disastrous for many, including the young alpha.

Henry Ferrers had had three beta sons; John (Dean's father), Nathaniel and Andrew. As such the bulk of the estate should have passed to the eldest son but Henry, seeing that John had all the financial acumen of a toe-nail, decided instead to split the estate into three roughly equal parts. John received the ancestral house of Barton Park and the family possessions in the adjoining town, Nathaniel received the southern part of the estate around Dark Barton, the next village down the valley towards Exeter, and Andrew received the lands the family held on the other side of the county above Plymouth. 

It can be argued that the only thing that John Ferrers got right in his life was marrying Miss Mary Campbell, a quiet but determined lady of no great fortune. As well as the aforementioned Dean they had had a second alpha son Samuel, but on taking over the estate from his father some ten years back John had proven his predecessor all too right in his fears and had run things very badly, with the consequence that five years back he had been forced to rent Barton Park out, the fortunate tenant being a retired army man called Sir Robert Middleton. Two years of further mismanagement of family affairs occurred before John Ferrers sold the estate to Sir Robert outright, remaining with his family in the self-same small cottage which was soon to be home to Mrs. Dashwood and her sons. Having wrecked his family's fortune most thoroughly, John Ferrers proceeded to die in a drunken stupor; his famous last words were that the doctors were wrong, and it was impossible for anyone to drink themselves to death...... oh.

After John Ferrers' passing, his widow and sons had continued to live in their cottage, but for the last year Mary Ferrers had been courted by a beadle from Exeter, a beta called Mr. Franklyn Devereux, and recently they had married and she had moved to the cathedral city. Sir Robert, who despite his somewhat rough appearance knew what it took to be an English gentleman. had very honourably offered the two now grown young alphas small houses of their own in the town, which was why their cottage had become available for the Dashwoods.

The fate of John Ferrers' brothers also needs to be mentioned, as it is pertinent to our story. Andrew Ferrers married one Miss Nicola Haddock, fittingly the daughter of a fish-merchant in Plymouth, and Miss Lilith Ferrers was their sole child. She became an orphan when both her parents died in an outbreak of sickness in the city, and was brought back to be raised by her uncle John (i.e. her aunt Mary). Rumours that the future Lady Dashwood's departure for Sussex was celebrated by people in the valley are unproven, but accurate.

The other son, Nathaniel, had married Lady Amara de Noir, for whom he was her fourth husband. Her origins were, most unsatisfactorily for the valley gossips, unknown, except that her previous husbands had come from Cumberland, the Isle of Ely and the Channel Islands, and the most recent had left her his title before expiring (though sheer relief, some said very quietly). Nathaniel and Amara had had no children (which was also a relief, some said very, very quietly), and he had died nine years ago, leaving the Darkside estate - the lands around Dark Barton - to his widow. Lady Amara had since effectively 'adopted' her nephew Mr. Dean Ferrers as her heir, which was something of a mixed blessing for the young alpha.

+~+~+

Concerning Lady Amara, it grated on people that they did not know her full background. With Sir Robert Middleton, everyone knew that he was just a retired soldier who, through happenstance, had been able to purchase a sizeable country estate and retire whilst still in his early fifties. It was perhaps surprising that the usually sharp gossips in the valley never asked themselves just what a soldier could do that could earn himself that sort of money.....

From his first marriage to Miss Caroline Rosen, Sir Robert had had four children; Carolina (now fourteen), Daphne (twelve), Robert (eleven) and Stephen (nine), both boys being alphas like himself. Unfortunately his wife had died giving birth to a third daughter some seven years ago, the girl also dying. Sir Robert had never planned to re-marry, but Fate apparently had had other ideas. Whilst visiting Exeter for the day he had chanced to meet one Mrs. Rowena Shepherd, who had appealed for his help. Her step-son, an omega called Crowley, had been taken into the Devonshire Home for Indigents (known locally as Hell, as it chanced to be on Helston Lane), and as she was not a blood relation she was being refused permission to take him out. Sir Robert swiftly put matters to rights, and found that the omega in question was rather attractive in his own way (anyone who knew the omega in question may have wondered slightly at this, but they do say that love is blind). After a whirlwind romance the two were wed, and Mrs. Shepherd came with her step-son to live at Barton Park. She..... well, yes.

Sir Robert's household was completed by a young omega called Inias Washington Beauregard who, as his name suggests, had a partly American ancestry. His father Enoch had married Sir Robert's sister Charlotte, and on her death had returned to his homeland and married an omega called Iain, after whom the boy had been named. Living out of the wild frontier may have been considered exciting but it was also dangerous, and Inias' parents had been murdered when a neighbouring landowner had decided their farm would do better as part of his property. The boy himself was lucky to survive, and his teacher had written to Sir Robert of his plight. As with Mrs. Dashwood there was of course no blood obligation on the nobleman to act, but he had not hesitated, and Inias had been brought to England. He was seventeen years of age, and due to be presented soon.

+~+~+

Let us now return to Mr. Dean Ferrers who, it will be understood, starts the story in a somewhat difficult position. At twenty-three years of age he was very much the typical alpha male, broad-shouldered and green-eyed. He had just had to fend off yet another attempt by his aunt to see a doctor over his bowed legs; such things were fine on an omega or amongst the lower orders, she had sniffed, but certainly not on any relative of hers! The start of our story finds him in London, where his aunt had requested he attend a couple of important (boring) social functions as her representative.

Dean had been about to leave a capital which, if anything, seemed even more depressing than usual with the ongoing war, when the letter had arrived for him from Sir Robert, asking if he might call in on his cousin Lilith's estate (he still smiled when he thought of her being a Lady - in name, at least!) and have words with her husband's stepmother Mrs. Dashwood, whom Sir Robert had just invited to move to Devonshire with her three sons. As she was moving into Dean's former cottage the nobleman felt some words of encouragement might be apposite as Lilith was being.... herself. Dean snorted at that truism; his cousin only ever wrote to crow about her new position, never to offer any support, and had not yet gone so far as to invite them to Norland Park since her taking over there. 

Not that he would have gone as he could not stand the woman, but it would have been nice to have been given the opportunity to turn her down.

+~+~+

Norland Lodge turned out to be as small as its name had suggested, and Dean thought crossly that his cousin really could have done better than this for close family, especially as Sir Robert had explained that her husband Lord Raphael had promised his late father that he would 'take good care' of his step-family. This tumbledown place was not 'taking good care'. Their new destination, his old home, would be a considerable upgrade from this hovel, especially after the building work that Sir Robert was having done on it.

He reminded himself again of the people he had to meet. Mrs. Rebecca Dashwood, just shy of forty years of age, and her three teenage omega sons; Castiel, Gabriel and Samandriel, none yet of age and only the eldest one presented as of yet. He also remembered that Lilith had named her son Uriel; presumably the late Lord Charles must have had the same interest in angel lore than his own mother still had, except that he had gone a step further and inflicted angelic names on his offspring. Poor things.

The servant who had taken his card returned to say that the mistress of the house had gone into town with her two youngest sons but was due back any minute, and the oldest son would receive him. Whilst an un-mated omega receiving an un-mated alpha would have raised more than a few eyebrows in polite society (and his aunt would have had a fit!), Dean accepted. It was only for a few minutes; what harm could there be? 

He entered the room and bowed to the figure standing by the fireplace ready to receive him. This rather scruffy and unprepossessing individual had to be Mr. Castiel Dashwood. The omega turned a pair of startling blue eyes on him. Dean felt suddenly short of breath. And very, very..... well, thank the Lord he always wore his looser trousers when riding!

Only a shriek from someone entering the room snapped him back to reality, and he realized to his absolute horror that he had been openly – ugh, there was no way around the word – nuzzling an un-mated omega! And the poor man had just had to stand there and take it, Dean obviously being so much stronger than him. This was a disaster!

(It had also been rather pleasant, a certain part of him pointed out. Dean told it to shut up). 

“You must be Mr. Dean Ferrers”, the newly-arrived lady said. She was blonde, around forty years of age and looked rather windblown. “I am Mrs. Rebecca Dashwood, Sir Robert's cousin. He mentioned that you would be calling. Um, Castiel?”

The omega blushed bright red, somehow managed to prise himself from the alpha's grasp and all but fled the room. Dean was mortified.

“I presume that is what London society calls 'making an entrance'”, Mrs. Dashwood smiled, though Dean noted that her tone was teasing rather than admonitory. “I have heard it said that we do things differently in the country, but I had not thought the gulf quite that wide.”

Most disobligingly, the floor refused to open up and swallow him whole; Dean made a mental note that the Good Lord owed him one for that. And he had come so close to biting and claiming that omega.....

Bad idea. A very, very bad idea. For one very obvious reason.....

+~+~+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The war mentioned was the Napoleonic War (1803-1814, and 1815), a continuation of the French Revolutionary Wars (1792-1802). In 1809 it was a stalemate; the French ruled the land but the British controlled the seas. Three years prior the French had tried to destroy British sea-trade (Continental System), somehow overlooking the small matter of the Royal Navy, and the British had retaliated with their own embargo (Orders In Council). The previous year (1808) the French had invaded Spain and Portugal to try to get the latter to enforce the System, and this over-reach would eventually prove Napoleon's undoing.


	3. Go West!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. Castiel Dashwood recovers from his first encounter (nuzzling) with the dashing alpha Mr. Dean Ferrers. There is a small financial problem to deal with before he and his family make the move to Devonshire, where they will be one hundred and fifty miles away from Lady Lilith (oh woes!). Arriving, they meet the first of their new neighbours, Mrs. Rowena Shepherd, who is.... well, she is Rowena Shepherd.

It was undeniably true that Mr. Castiel Dashwood was, by some distance, the most level-headed of his siblings, although considering that fifty per cent of that 'competition' was his brother Gabriel, that was not exactly a high bar. So when the eldest Dashwood omega burst into his and his brothers' room like he was being chased by the hounds of Hell, Samandriel looked up in surprise.

“Is something wrong, Castiel?” he asked politely. 

Castiel offered up a silent prayer that Gabriel was not here to ask the sort of awkward questions that he specialized in, and threw himself down on his bed. The room was shared by all of them, but each had a bed and a zone around it that the others generally respected (although in Gabriel's case only after Castiel had 'accidentally' directed their mother to some of the middle Dashwood's more, ahem, interesting purchases).

“Mr. Dean Ferrers called”, Castiel gasped, slowly getting his breath back. His brother looked puzzled.

“Sir Robert Middleton's friend”, he recalled. “Mama did tell us that he hoped to intercept the man before he left London, and ask him to call on us. It is his old cottage that we are moving into, she said. Why, was he not very friendly?”

Castiel barked a laugh.

“Oh he was very, very friendly!” he said heartily. “Two seconds in the room and he was nuzzling into my neck as if.....”

He stopped. His brother had gone pale. Everyone knew when an alpha went there on an omega, it usually only meant one thing.

“He did not?” Samandriel asked, aghast. “Please say he did not.. you know.”

“Wave his hands at me in a strange manner?” Castiel quipped. His brother glared at him.

“You know what I mean!” he grumbled.

“Mercifully he did not”, Castiel said shortly, “otherwise I might have had to bring my knee up sharply to remind him of his situation.”

His younger brother seemed to think for a moment, then smiled slightly. 

“Hold hard a moment”, he said. “When we got back, Maria said that he had been here for some ten minutes. You did not object in all that time?”

Castiel groaned. Had it really been that long? Then again, his brain had not exactly been on the passing seconds. And from what had been pressing up against him, neither had that of the alpha. Well, Dean's upper brain at least.

“I was overwhelmed!” Castiel groaned. 

“But still, you did not mind matters enough to ask him to stop for ten whole minutes?” his brother pointed out. “We both know you could have easily extracted yourself from his attentions had you wanted to.”

Castiel groaned again.

“I did not know what to make of it”, he said. “And before I knew what was happening, Mother was in the room. I presume that Gabriel stayed in town?”

“Mrs. Featherstone asked if he could help again at the general store”, Samandriel explained. “Anne is off sick again.”

“He will doubtless eat most of the day's profits, then”, Castiel said with a sigh. “At least I am safe up here. Although from the look on his face when I left, I think that poor Dean was as mortified as I was by the whole experience.”

“Deeeean!” his brother grinned. “You call him by his Christian name already.”

Castiel tried to bury himself under his pillow.

“It must be your scent”, Samandriel reasoned. “You are so lucky, being able to make an alpha lose control like that. Just how handsome is he, this 'Deeeeean'?”

Castiel was perilously close to making a comment about intensely forest-green eyes and strong muscles, one that would have probably resulted in his having to change his name and move to Darkest Peru. And those bowed legs that had been close to enfolding him.....

“It is just a random match, Alfie”, he said dismissively. “Besides, he is a gentleman of considerable means, whilst I am a poor omega. Even though we shall soon be neighbours, nothing can come of it.”

His brother looked at him dubiously. Which fairly reflected how Castiel felt himself about the whole business.

+~+~+

The alpha's time in the area turned out not to be long as he also had to pay a courtesy call on his sister up at the great house, and Castiel was more than a little relieved when, the following day, his mother told him that the man was headed back to Devonshire. They themselves would move to the south west early the following month, and be safely installed in their new home for the summer. Fortunately their visitor had sketched out a plan of the cottage's layout, so his mother was distracted by planning for all the rooms, though the knowing looks she sent her eldest son were disturbing.

The fact they would be one hundred and fifty miles away from their unpleasant relatives at the manor house made Castiel smile, and it was a blessing that he had never been that attached to draughty old Norland. He did worry about going to live so near to a certain alpha, whose self-control was, apparently, questionable. But Mr. Dean Ferrers had his own life, and apart from possible occasional meetings at Sir Robert Middleton's house, they were unlikely to see much of each other. This would be a one-off, a momentary aberration after which his life could resume its quiet, uninterrupted course.

Since you ask, yes. Castiel Dashwood always had been this optimistic.

+~+~+

The next months saw some ups and downs as the family prepared for the great move west. To start with, Lady Lilith was even cooler to them than usual, prompting Castiel to worry that she had somehow discovered what her cousin had done – well, not done – look, he knew what he meant! - with the omega. Fortunately the arrival of spring saw her become involved with a charity drive to help the nation's brave men fighting the French, and her attitude improved somewhat. Indeed, she seemed generally contrite at their leaving. Mrs. Dashwood's face took on a forced smile at this sudden friendliness, doubting that it would last.

It ended abruptly at the end of March when, without telling his wife, Lord Raphael decided to settle fifteen hundred on each of the three omegas, a clear five hundred more than would have been required by the social norms of the day. Showing a rare degree of foresight, he had the whole thing signed and arranged before his wife found out, and mentioned it across the breakfast table before departing on what turned out to be a very long trip to London. He therefore only had to endure a short period of screaming and shouting as to how he now obviously hated his own flesh and blood son, disinheriting him in this terrible way. Only when she realized that the whole thing was irreversible did his wife settle into a loud sulk, seemingly determined to make herself even more disliked around the area than before. This was quite difficult given her 'achievements' thus far, but she managed it.

Castiel made the fortunate discovery that one of the maids up at the great house had come up from Devonshire with Lady Lilith, and so knew something of the alpha who had been all over him of late. From her he learnt of Mr. Ferrers' situation and his family, as well as something of his character. In truth the omega was torn between wanting the man to be a complete rat of the first order so he could more easily maintain a distance between them, and not wanting that because.... well, such hopes were foolish anyway. He did not really know how to feel when it turned out that the man's more than pleasant exterior was matched by a good heart and good sense, even if the maid described him as 'boring, really, though less of an air-head than his big brother'. That had confused Castiel a little as he was sure his mother had said that that Samuel Ferrers was the younger brother, but he supposed that the mystery would be cleared up soon enough once they were in Drake's county.

April showers lived up to their name by beginning mere seconds after midnight on the first of that month, but fortunately the weather was dry when the Dashwoods finally set off for their new home. The only hard part was that they had to go via the great house, and receive a hearty farewell from Lord Raphael (back from his trip with an expensive new dress and other gifts for his wife, sensible man) and an openly insincere one from Lady Lilith, but that ordeal over and done with, they could be on their way. Mrs. Dashwood was happier now she had a new home to look forward to, and was even prepared to overlook her second son admitting that possibly, he just may have done something to the newly-installed flush toilets at the big house.

The journey was in truth not as bad as they had feared, as many parts of the route had now been turnpiked and were quite serviceable. Best of all, Sir Robert had sent a sum more than ample enough to pay all the charges, and they proceeded rather faster than they had anticipated. Sir Robert had also insisted on paying for their accommodation, and the four-day journey rapidly became something of a mini-holiday.

+~+~+

Their penultimate stop was in the town of Honiton, a little over ten miles from their destination but along a very poor road. It was therefore just past noon when Castiel, who was driving their cart, rounded a corner and found himself looking down into a long shallow valley. That had to be the Culm, which meant that the small town sat squarely around a stone bridge was Barton Ferrers, and the long grey house on their side of the valley had to be Sir Robert's Barton Park. There was also a small village a little way further down the valley towards Exeter, which Castiel guessed was Dark Barton, the property of the other major landowner in the area, the handsy Mr. Ferrers' aunt Lady Amara de Noir. He and his brother owned adjoining houses in town, Castiel knew, but their route would not take them that way.

Barton Park Estate was protected by a low stone wall which accompanied the road they were on for some miles. Eventually they came to a gatehouse by a crossroads where the left-hand turn led into the town. To their surprise a lady came out to meet them, looking slightly dishevelled.

“Good day”, she smiled. “You must be the Dashwoods. I am Mrs. Shepherd – Rowena to my friends – and my stepson and his husband have been expecting you. The cottage is the first building along that track to the right. Everything is ready for you, and Sir Robert will invite you to the house a few days from now, but if you need him sooner....”

She was interrupted as two young men - both betas and, Castiel guessed from their striking resemblance, twins - appeared in the doorway behind her. Between them they had enough clothes for common decency. Only just.

“Andrew and Ansem”, she smiled. “Um..... relief gatekeepers.”

Is that what they call it in these parts, Castiel thought cattily. He said nothing, but was somewhat unnerved when the lady looked knowingly at him, almost as if she could read his mind.

“Thank you for looking out for us”, Mrs. Dashwood smiled. “Castiel?”

The omega clicked the reins and the cart rumbled on its way. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the lady shooing the betas back into the cottage and, he was sure, goosing one of them. He urged the horse to trot a little faster.

It was only a short further journey to a pleasantly-situated little cottage on the edge of the estate, sheltered from the great house by a small copse. The cottage itself looked well enough, and Castiel felt his spirits rising. They were home. 

+~+~+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A settlement of fifteen hundred equates to around £100,000 ($130,000) in 2016 terms, and would have yielded an annual income at the time of about one-tenth of that, i.e. £10,000 ($13,000). Such modern equivalents are tricky, but roughly speaking this would have rated them as moderately well provided for. Dean Ferrers stood to inherit the estate and the twenty thousand of his aunt which latter equates to around £13,000,000 ($17,000,000) in today's terms, putting him right on the top bracket of desirable alphas. Except..... we'll come to that later.


	4. Rural Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. The background to Dean's 'engaged but not engaged' status is revealed, and he learns that that particular 'engagement' is not as distant as he might have wished. Mrs. Shepherd goes for a walk in the woods with Garth the forester, her step-son is both cynical and accurate, and both Dean and Sir Robert are concerned at the return of the rapscallion Lieutenant Balthazar Willoughby to the area.

Mr. Dean Ferrers was not, by modern standards, a religious man. True, he attended church on Sunday (though that was partly because he knew his aunt would immediately disinherit him if she found otherwise!), and did the obligatory good works that a man in his position was wont to do. But recent events in a cottage in Sussex, coupled with certain other events earlier in his life.... well, he would sincerely appreciate it if the Good Lord could work off his sense of humour on some other victim, thank you very much!

It has been mentioned that the passing of Dean's father, Mr. John Ferrers, was not exactly mourned by those who knew him (ahem!). A beta himself, he had seen in his two sons the chance to live the alpha life, especially through Dean as the eldest. Unfortunately the repressed teenage spirit will always find a way to rebel, as it has in past generations and will most certainly do so in future ones. And, as here was the case, with unhappy consequences.

It had been the young Dean's grave misfortune that, at this most vulnerable time in his life, he had happened upon a female of the species who had perfected the exploitation of someone of his callow youth. Just over two years his junior, Miss Ruby Steele was the second of seven children of one of Dean's tutors, a Mr. Phineas Steele. As such Dean came to see a lot of the family, and he became friends with both Philoctetes, the eldest alpha son, and Charlene, the second of the four daughters. With Ruby he became rather more; it had taken very little effort for her to inveigle Dean into a pledge of marriage which, although it could obviously not be pursued whilst Lady Amara was alive, the girl knew full well would bind an honourable man like him tighter than any legal contract. In this she was, sadly, quite correct.

(It might be wondered at this point as to why Lady Amara had not already chosen her nephew's future partner, as she had arranged every other aspect of her life. However, having been married four times herself, she was of the firm opinion that no alpha needed to marry before he was thirty years of age. This was one instance in which her nephew was more than happy to concur with her most wise counsel - at least, until he reached thirty years of age!). 

The Steeles were not rich but they were well-connected; indeed that was part of the reason for Miss Ruby's interest in young Dean Ferrers. Mr. Phineas Steele had two siblings; a brother Hector, who was the member of parliament for one of the small Cornish constituencies, and a sister Antonia, who had married the late Lord Bevell (it had been something of a scandal at the time as there had been more than two decades between them in age). It had been widely expected that Lady Bevell would leave her not inconsiderable wealth to her eldest niece one day, but unfortunately a visit by Miss Ruby to Bevell House had gone very badly, and as a result the eight thousand she had been expecting to receive was now destined for be split between her three sisters, four to Charlene and two each to Alicia and Gwendolyn. It had been no coincidence that Miss Ruby's 'entrapment' of Mr. Dean Ferrers had occurred within a month of this change of heart.

Miss Ruby Steele's prospects were to be delayed, however, as once the Ferrers boys no longer required the services of her father, Mr. Steele had taken his family with him for a posting in rural Northumberland. Miss Ruby did however maintain regular contact with her 'fiancé' through the general post, and knew that she could wait for the inevitable. Lady Amara was past sixty, and once she was out of the way, Miss Ruby Steele could become Mrs. Dean Ferrers at her pleasure. She might, she had graciously decided, even allow her husband some minor pastimes of his own, provided he kept her in the manner to which she would become accustomed.

Or she might not.

+~+~+

Dean Ferrers' nature was such that, until that fateful March day he had accepted his destiny with a calm resignation. Apparently his body had had other plans, judging from his reaction to that poor omega Mr. Castiel Dashwood, who would surely be quite wary of him when they next met. Those future meetings would have to be as few and far between as were socially permissible; Dean could not subject himself to such temptation any more than was necessary, as he was as engaged as a man could be without a ring on his finger.

He thought of the long, elegant fingers of Mr. Castiel Dashwood and groaned aloud. Why did his life have to be such a mess?

At least Fortune had smiled on him during his visit to his cousin up at the great house, even if she did find time to be offended that he had not come to see her first ('because I cannot stand you, Lilith dear'). She had been about to head out to take tea at the house of one of the county's other great families and so was not able to stay long to talk with him. Dean controlled his disappointment at this quite well, particularly as it enabled him, once she had gone, to slip back to the house to visit the cook Mrs. Furness and see if she had a spare pie to hand. Even if it was only dried fruit, it was still pie! 

Dean knew full well that his cousin would have had a fit had she known that he was talking to mere 'staff', but he himself had few pretensions when it came to such things himself. He was also able to extract some further information about the characters of the people at Norland Lodge who would soon be his near-neighbours. He had not known whether to be glad or disappointed that Mrs. Furness praised Mr. Castiel Dashwood in particular, saying that he was the one person she would really miss when he left. Although her comment that she hoped he might find a nice alpha down in Devonshire was accompanied by a Look that made the alpha squirm.

+~+~+

If Dean had wished for the Fates to provide him with a distraction from his troubles, his dinner with Sir Robert that evening provided one. One that would have made him a lot more careful as to what he wished for.

“I spoke with Rufus down at the shop today”, Sir Robert said, a frown on his face. “He said that Willoughby is back in town.”

Dean groaned. The smithy in Barton Ferrers was indeed a great place for gossip – old Rufus Turner was so sour and grouchy that, in some strange way, it encouraged people to divulge all their secrets to him – but this was ill news indeed.

Dame Alicia Willoughby owned some large orchards by the river, just south of the town. Her husband Christopher had died some years ago (local gossips claimed that he had tried rather too much of her home brew, known locally as 'sui-cider') and she had a number of relatives who called infrequently, most in the hopes of inheriting her lands when she passed. Dean found that quietly amusing as he knew she had already willed the whole lot to the church, but he had to admit that Lieutenant Balthazar Willoughby, her great-nephew and the only relative that she supported, was something else. There were all sorts of rumours about him, many of them unpleasant and, Dean knew, in at least one instance, quite true.

Balthazar was the son of Mr. Jehu Willoughby, Dame Alicia's sole alpha nephew who, it had seemed at the time, had irrevocably blotted his copybook by actually marrying a Frenchwoman! Fortunately for his prospects she had died in childbirth, and he had returned to England with the infant Balthazar. The young beta had grown up with the sort of French charm that made any right-thinking Englishman want to kick him, and Dame Alicia had obtained a commission in the army for him. Unfortunately (in the opinion of Dean and several others) he had not been shot by anyone, even from his own side. But there was still time.

“What does he want?” Dean grumbled. “Hasn't he been drummed out of the army yet?”

“His regiment was going to be sent to Portugal”, Sir Robert said, “but after Wellesley's run of victories of late they are being held back for now. Our man will still have enough troops to beat that blasted Frog, though.”

“He could do with one more”, Dean sniped. “I dare say that the mamas and papas of the area should be putting themselves on their guard until he is safely back where he belongs.”

“You seem a little distracted, Dean”, Crowley grinned. “Is something wrong?”

If truth be told, Dean had been a little perturbed that day by the arrival of a letter from his cousin Lilith. Though he had only spoken with her for half an hour or so, she had clearly suspected something, and presumably somewhere down the line a servant had talked. Despite the fact that he too lived in a country area, Dean still found it surprising (and sometimes depressing) just how fast news travelled these days. Next thing he knew there would be some sort of magic box in every house to enable people to spread gossip around the world in seconds.

“Rebecca Dashwood and her family arrived earlier today”, Sir Robert said, cutting in on his thoughts. “I have invited them to dinner three days from now, to give them time to settle in, but perhaps you might call on them, Dean, just to see if they have any problems?”

Only an uncontrolled alpha pawing the eldest son of the house, Dean thought acidly. But he could hardly say no.

“Of course, sir”, he said politely. “It is late now, so I shall call by when I go out for my ride tomorrow.”

“An eligible young omega moving into the area, with two brothers to follow”, Crowley cooed. “No money, which is a pity, but an omega is a prize for anyone seeking alpha offspring. What do the doctors say; an alpha birth is three times more likely that from a wife?”

“Nearly that”, Sir Robert agreed, eyeing Dean thoughtfully. The young man shivered, hoping that his reaction to the newcomers had not been picked up upon. “Well, we shall soon see what Mr. Castiel Dashwood is made of. If he is still single within a twelvemonth of his arrival here, I for one shall be very surprised.”

“Talking of things surprising”, Dean said, “I thought I saw Rowena over by the woods as I rode in. Did you not say that she was averse to the outdoors in general?”

“Or sunlight”, Crowley snarked. It was well known that he and his step-mother did not always get on.

“She is showing Garth, my new forester, round the estate”, Sir Robert explained. “I brought him over from that Irish holding I sold last year; she said she would show him the ropes. Very sound beta, our Mr. Fitzgerald.”

Dean bit back a smile as, out of sight of the nobleman, Crowley made a socially questionable gesture that indicated precisely what he suspected that his step-mother was 'showing' the very sound beta. Though knowing Rowena, her step-son was more than likely correct. 

The fact that, on his way home, he came across a dishevelled forester asleep snoring against a tree-stump told him that in assuming the worst he had been, as so often, all too right.

+~+~+

In fact there was worse news to come for Dean than a rapacious lieutenant's return to the area. With the sort of timing that even further dented his faith in the Good Lord, he arrived home to a letter from Miss Ruby Steele. It was not good news; her father's post in Northumberland had come to an end, and the family he had been serving had recommended him to relatives in Sutton, some way south of London. So when Dean was next in the capital....

Few things could make an alpha shudder in fear, but that was one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur Wellesley, later ennobled as the Duke of Wellington. His inspiring leadership proved critical in welding the small Portuguese army into something that could hold off a French army that was infinitely larger. He finally worsted Napoleon himself at the Battle of Waterloo (1815), and was later prime minister of the United Kingdom (1828-1830 and 1834).


	5. Young And Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. Fifteen-year-old Gabriel Dashwood meets the twenty-five year-old Lieutenant Willoughby, whom he likes a lot, and Colonel Lucifer Brandon, who at thirty-five he considers 'a great age'. He also learns the hard way as to just why one should keep certain thoughts to oneself. Castiel finds a new friend in Inias up at the great house, and his second encounter with Mr. Dean Ferrers involves absolutely no untimely or inappropriate nuzzling at all.  
> Um, that last bit may have been not quite one hundred per cent accurate....

Mr. Castiel Dashwood was almost relieved when, on returning from his walk that morning, he discovered that Mr. Dean Ferrers had called on behalf of Sir Robert to see as to how they had settled in, and that the omega had missed (being nuzzled by) him. However, they were all invited to dinner up at the great house two days hence, so said nuzzling may merely have been postponed. And unusually, neither his mother nor youngest brother had blabbed about his 'close encounter' to Gabriel, which he supposed only served to prove that miracles did still happen.

The first day was spent unpacking, which sent their mother into her usual flurry of disorder as she tried to work out where she wanted everything placed, and then where she wanted everything replaced. Undoubtedly the best part of the cottage, from Castiel's point of view, was that it came with three bedrooms, which meant that he got the smallest one to himself, even if it was pretty much a cupboard that someone had just about managed to wedge a bed into. Not that he got tired of always having his brothers around....

All right, he did. 

+~+~+

On the second morning, Mrs. Dashwood left Castiel and one of the servants with a list of what she wanted moved and removed where, which his brothers found highly amusing – until they realized that their task was to be dragged around the shops of Barton Ferrers all morning by their mama (their elder brother may have allowed himself a not so quiet smirk at their faces). He courteously declined their suggestions (begging) that one or both of them might stay behind and assist him.

He had just finished when there was a knock at the door. It turned out to be a dark-haired omega of around seventeen years of age.

“My name is Inias”, he explained, taking a seat at the table, “and I am Sir Robert's nephew. Well, sort of.”

Castiel looked at him in confusion. The other omega smiled shyly. 

“I am the son of Enoch Beauregard and Ian, his second mate in the United States”, Inias explained. “My father's first mate was Sir Robert's sister Charlotte, and when he heard that my parents had died, he sent for me. He always says that family does not always end in blood.”

“That does not surprise me”, Castiel said. “That and his bringing us here fits well with the man's generous nature. Do you walk the area much?”

“Sometimes”, Inias smiled, “but mostly I prefer reading. Sir Robert has a fair library, and once every fortnight he encourages me to take a carriage into Exeter to visit the library there. Do you read much?”

“I love to”, Castiel smiled.

“What about your brothers?” Inias asked politely.

“Alfie – Samandriel, but we call him by his middle name – is moderately interested in literature”, Castiel said. “Gabriel...”

He tried to think of some polite way of describing his brother, but judging from his visitor's smile, his silence had spoken for him. Inias grinned.

“Gabriel is just Gabriel”, Castiel said at last. “And my mother is not interested unless it is a gushing romance. I enjoy those occasionally myself, but I could not live off them like she does.”

“I quite like an occasional romantic story myself”, Inias smiled. “The dashing alpha who sweeps the omega off of his feet – it is pleasant reading for a change. I read a story about True Mates recently, and at the end it claimed that the odds of finding your perfect partner in that way are less than one in five thousand!”

Castiel smiled.

“Well, one never knows”, he said.

+~+~+

It would be nice to say that Mr. Castiel Dashwood's second meeting with Mr. Dean Ferrers was not quite such a close encounter as the first. It would also have been somewhat misleading, in the sense of being totally untrue.

Things were difficult enough to begin with, and Castiel secretly chided the alpha for always maintaining a large distance between the two once they had been introduced. The fact he was holding his breath as he and Castiel shook hands – well, if he was trying not to be obvious, he was failing badly. 

Castiel also met the younger Mr. Ferrers and the Middleton family for the first time, and formed considerably different impressions of their new neighbours. Mr. Samuel Ferrers was absurdly tall, and Castiel noted the sudden change in his attitude when he overheard Sir Robert – who was not the most tactful man in the Universe – remind him that the young Dashwoods had no fortune of their own. It seemed that Samuel Ferrers, although an alpha, was as yet unaware that changes in his scent made his true feelings all too apparent, to omegas in particular. Overall the man was a bubble-head, but polite enough.

Castiel rather liked Sir Robert, a bluff and genial alpha who he reckoned had to be sharp to be able to afford to live in a place like Barton Park. He was less sure about his mate Laird Crowley, who looked far too knowing and was one of the first to spot Dean's unusual behaviour. And as for the laird's step-mother whom he had already met briefly – well, Castiel was rarely afraid, but something about Mrs. Rowena Shepherd managed it! Fortunately she seemed more intent on making one of the footmen, a beta who went by the decidedly unusual name of De'Ath, eminently uncomfortable through looks and 'accidental' bushes whenever she swept past him. 

There was one person there of whom Castiel had not known in advance. Colonel Lucifer Brandon was in his mid-thirties, a blond alpha who he would have known as military even before he had been introduced, from his ramrod posture and musculature. His face was craggy rather than handsome and he had a slight limp which, Castiel learnt, was the injury which had invalided him out of the army. He owned Delaford, the next estate up the valley around the village of that name, not far from the Somersetshire border and the hills thereabouts. He was polite and courteous, although he seemed somewhat distracted.

+~+~+

The evening progressed well enough until Inias offered to show the young Dashwoods around the house, and Castiel found a book in the library that he had long wished to own. He was so engrossed in it that he failed to notice that he had company in the room. Green-eyed company. He tensed.

“I am sorry”, Dean said. “I suppose that you were enjoying.....”

His eyes glazed over, and Castiel knew exactly what was going to happen next. And worse, he felt precisely no desire to stop it. Four seconds later, he had a neck full of alpha. He absently patted the taller man's hair, but the sound of pained longing nearly undid him. He knew the man could bite him in barely a second, yet somehow he trusted him not to.

“I do not think this is the time or the place, Mr. Ferrers”, he said gently, trying to ease the alpha away. 

To his surprise the man somehow managed to get control over his body and move back, his face bright red. Although Castiel could see that the effort cost him dear.

“I am so sorry”, Dean said, staring hard at the floor. “I had no right.. you would..... excuse me, sir.”

He struggled with the door handle before fleeing the room, almost knocking over poor Inias who had come to find his friend. Castiel stared after the fleeing alpha, perplexed.

+~+~+

Castiel's family had of course noticed Dean's earlier (though mercifully not his later) behaviour, and the walk back home was decidedly uncomfortable as a result. 

“What is it with you and Mr. Dean Ferrers?” Gabriel asked, almost before they were clear of the hall porch. Castiel winced.

“Mr. Ferrers scented him when he came to the cottage that time”, their mother said blithely. Castiel wished not for the first time that he was an orphan. 

“He did what?” Gabriel asked, shocked. “Why did no-one tell me?”

“Because you have a big mouth”, Samandriel retorted, dodging the inevitable swat.

“He did not scent me”, Castiel said, wishing the walk was over and increasing his pace slightly. “He was temporarily overcome by a natural reaction between our scents, that was all.”

“Now I know that you are keeping something from me”, Gabriel grinned. “You always use long words to try to put me off.”

Castiel decided to go for deflection. His brother was easily distracted.

“Well, what was with you and Colonel Brandon?” he asked. “He seemed almost to recognize you, although we are new to the area.”

“He is one of the few people Lady Amara de Noir actually approves of”, their mother told them. “Mrs. Shepherd told me that Her Ladyship has actually set her cap at him one time, despite his being young enough to be her son.”

“But he is of such a great age!” Gabriel said scornfully. “Why, he must be almost forty!”

Castiel and Samandriel exchanged knowing looks, and waited for the inevitable.

“Ow!”

Gabriel rubbed the back of his head and looked in surprise at their mother.

“Someone celebrated their thirty-tenth birthday this year”, Castiel reminded him, grateful for once for his brother's outspokenness as their mother strutted away in a huff. She would probably refuse to cook them dinner this evening.

Every cloud.....

+~+~+

April gave way to May, and the Dashwoods settled into their new lives at the cottage. Mrs. Dashwood took a part-time job as a writer for the local newspaper, whilst her sons enjoyed exploring the area. Castiel made several trips to the library in Exeter with his new friend Inias, and filled his days with chores and reading. Life went on. 

Until one day in particular when Gabriel did not come back from a walk.

Mrs. Dashwood stared out anxiously at the menacing grey skies. Fortunately her miscreant finally returned, though not alone. She and Castiel exchanged shocked looks as Gabriel came up the path, supported if not actually carried by a young beta in his early twenties who introduced himself as Lieutenant Balthazar Willoughby. He was tall, blond and handsome; Castiel winced when he saw That Look on his mother's face.

“I found this waif on a wall, having sprained his ankle”, the soldier grinned. “He said he could easily make it home, then promptly fell over when he tried.”

Castiel and Samandriel both laughed. Gabriel scowled.

“Invalid here!” he grumbled. “In pain!”

The lieutenant helped him into the main room and onto the couch. Castiel noted but did not comment on the fact that his brother took rather longer to let go of the soldier than was necessary. Or appropriate.

“That was so nice of you”, Mrs. Dashwood trilled. “Would you like to stop for tea? We have cake!”

“Alas, not today”, the soldier said with a grimace. “I was on my way back to our camp – we are setting up between the Bartons – when I found Gabriel here.” He smiled down at the omega, who blushed. “I am already delayed, so must be on my way, but I shall call again. To check up on.... things.”

Definitely something there, Castiel thought. Well, Gabriel could do a lot worse than an army lieutenant.

He would have cause to remember that particular thought.

+~+~+

Castiel was relieved to go out for a walk with his friend Inias the following day, if only to escape his brother's witterings about how wonderful his new friend was. He mentioned the soldier's name to his companion, and the silence that ensued did not escape his notice.

“What is it?” Castiel asked. “Do you know something of the man?”

“He is the great-nephew of Dame Alicia, who owns the orchards south of the town”, Inias said, a little too casually. “Laird Crowley told me that she purchased his commission for him, and supports him to some extent.”

He stopped, looking far too nervous for such mundane information. 

“There is more”, Castiel pressed. “What do you know, Inias?”

“Only gossip I have heard”, his fellow omega said, “but I have heard it from two separate sources and, sorry to say, it is not good. It is said that there was a young omega in his past.”

“That is not unusual”, Castiel said, “especially for a soldier.

His friend looked warily at him.

“Very young”, he said. “Under-aged. It is further said that there was a child, and that Willoughby abandoned the man. And.... the man died in childbirth.”

Castiel winced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The much-needed army reforms instituted by Frederick (the Grand Old) Duke of York, King George III's second son, were beginning to take effect at this time. One such was the (re-)introduction of barracks, but soldiers still sometimes camped in the country.


	6. Times Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. The dinner at Barton Park has repercussions for both Mr. Dean Ferrers and Colonel Lucifer Brandon, bringing embarrassment for one and unhappy memories for the other. The valley raises money for a local lady who lost her husband at sea – well, most of the valley. Dean visits his mother down in Exeter and finds that she has a welcoming gift for the newcomers to the valley, so he has to call in at the Dashwoods' cottage. There may or may not be nuzzling during his visit (there is).

Although he was not overly fond of her, Dean felt he owed a small debt of gratitude to Mrs. Shepherd, who always made his younger brother uncomfortable when they met (he was, it might be added, a little curious as to why she never evinced any interest in he himself when her 'qualifications' for any sort of relationship appeared to be that her target had to be adult, male and breathing). And in this case, Sammy's distraction meant that he had most fortuitously missed his elder brother making a complete fool of himself once more.

Damnation! He was sure that he had not been close enough to smell that heavenly omega scent in the main room, but then had chanced to meet the man in the library and – Lord forgive him! – had ended up buried in his neck, putting out the sort of noises that, thankfully, no-one (certain recipients of nuzzling excepted) would ever hear. Then throughout the rest of the evening Dean had felt every scintilla of his alpha being demanding to know why he was not taking and knotting that gorgeous omega there and then in his friend's lounge, propriety be damned. And having to keep a distance between them all the time – well, thank the Lord that no-one had noticed. Things could not have been worse.

Which just showed how much he was wont to underestimate the world's ability to make a truly bad situation terrible. For today he had a visitor at his house in town, his friend Colonel Brandon. The soldier came straight to the point.

“It's that bastard Willoughby!” he growled. “Apparently he contrived to meet poor Gabriel Dashwood whilst the lad was out walking, and is now going around camp saying how he has a new omega waiting to be claimed.”

Dean winced. Gabriel Dashwood was not yet sixteen, but then again, this was Willoughby. And although the rapscallion's great-aunt would surely disown him if he were proven to have done anything like that, he might be able to persuade her that he had not been to blame.

“The family should be warned”, Dean said firmly. His friend sighed.

“You know as well as I do how credible Willoughby is”, he said bitterly. “They would only think that I was jealous.”

“But you are not”, Dean pointed out. “It's not as if.....”

He stopped. His friend had gone very red.

“Luke?”

“That evening at Bobby's”, his friend said slowly. “Gabriel Dashwood. He is just like.... him.”

Dean did not push. He knew full well which 'him' his friend was referring to.

“His character may be totally different, though”, he said.

“I observed him all evening”, the soldier said sourly. “Believe me, much as I wish it were not so, they are much the same. Why must things be so damnably complicated?”

I know the feeling, Dean thought.

+~+~+

“What do you think of Mr. Castiel Dashwood?”

The question, innocent enough in itself, nearly made Dean choke on his wine. He looked across at his host in surprise; Sir Robert stared back at him, unblinking.

“He seems sensible enough”, the younger alpha said, “especially when compared to his mother and brothers. Though that is hardly much in the way of competition!”

The nobleman grinned.

“Crowley is getting concerned”, he said. “His contacts – don't even ask – tell him that Willoughby is paying court to Mr. Gabriel Dashwood.”

“Not seriously”, Dean said dismissively. “We all know the lusty lieutenant has a definite lower limit when it comes to future Missuses or Monseigneurs to bear his illustrious name. He must marry at least five thousand, preferably ten the way he spends money. Besides, does not Dame Agatha have her eye on some rich girl in London for him? Not that I would wish Willoughby on any fellow member of the human race!”

Sir Robert nodded.

“Crowley rather fears that Mr. Gabriel Dashwood may not know all that”, he said. “He said that feels that someone should approach Mr. Castiel Dashwood. We both noted that you seemed quite, uh, affected by the elder boy. You were doing everything short of running away from him.”

So much for going unnoticed at the dinner, then.

“I was not running away!” Dean protested. 

Sir Robert quirked an eyebrow at him. Dean sighed.

“It seems that our scents are a perfect match”, he said. “I, uh, may have tested out how compatible they were in a rather inappropriate manner on our first meeting. But there can be nothing between us.”

His friend nodded. 

“A pity”, he said. “He is sound for an omega. I take it from your flushed appearance later in the evening that you had felt the urge to test that theory for a second time. Better safe than sorry, eh?”

Where was an aerolite when you needed one, Dean wondered.

“So this testing”, the nobleman grinned. “Was it good?”

Aerolite, earthquake, tornado, passing apocalypse. Dean was not fussy.

+~+~+

One of the problems of living in a country area, Dean had long ago decided, was the general lack of activity meant that even the smallest pieces of news were seized on by local gossips like vultures discovering some fresh carrion. For example, the fact that the town handyman Mr. Lindberg had fallen asleep over his beer the other day had been immediately (and, it may be said, correctly) linked to his being the latest target for Mrs. Shepherd's diverse affections. Dean hoped that she would move on to some other victim soon; the town needed someone like Asher to be, if not sober (Devonians tended to be realistic in their ambitions), then at least semi-functional.

Two days after the dinner at Barton Park, Dean paid a call on his mother and step-father down in Exeter. There was of course no way that she could have known about his current situation, yet there was a knowing look in her eye when she asked if he would kindly take Mrs. Dashwood a welcome-gift of some new linens. Seriously, sometimes it was as if there was some invisible news network up in the æther, transmitting Dean's Daily Dilemmas for all the world to read about! Or maybe it was Mr. Castiel Dashwood's angel namesake, punishing Dean for doing... for not doing....

And now he had an image of the man after whom he lusted with a huge pair of black wings coming out of him. Just great!

He sighed heavily as he rode back to Barton Ferrers. It was not as if he was free to marry, let alone that even without any money, the Middleton connection would enable Cas - Mr. Dashwood - to make a reasonably profitable connection, so someone else would get to.....

Dean realized that he was actually growling as he rode along, and snapped himself out of it. What was wrong with him these days?

+~+~+

He was relieved to approach the Dashwoods' cottage and see Mrs. Dashwood through the open kitchen window, doing something she presumably mistook for singing. Either that, or she was in pain. But his relief lasted only to the front gate for, as he reached for it, someone stood up from where they had been weeding just behind the white fence.

Mr. Castiel Dashwood. The omega smiled politely, but Dean noted a touch of wariness in his greeting. Hardly surprising, really. The alpha dismounted his horse and went to meet him at the gate, which Castiel opened for him.

“My mother sent these as a welcome-gift”, he said, staring longingly at that perfect neck, just screaming for a claiming mark. Already he was beginning to feel slightly disoriented. “I, uh......”

The linens were squashed between them as Dean buried himself into the omega's muscled body, sighing happily. He was dimly aware of the smaller man patting him gently on the back, as if afraid he might spook him.

“Castiel?”

Damnation, that was the man's mother calling from inside the cottage. If she saw him being molested by their neighbour yet again, all hell would break loose. Somehow Dean managed to prise himself away from that heavenly scent, even though he immediately felt a terrible chill and a yearning to be back where he truly belonged. There may or may not have been some whining that did not originate from the smaller man.

A pair of impossibly blue eyes watched him warily. Fortunately Castiel Dashwood had had the sense to grab the linens as Dean had backed away, so the alpha was able to run (sprint) to his horse and head away from his latest blunder.

He was in such trouble!

+~+~+

Dean would have liked to have just ridden away and spent a few hours in a field swearing aloud at life in general, but he knew that he could hardly come all this way without paying a call at the great house. Sir Robert received him jovially, and was kind enough not to comment on his somewhat dishevelled appearance. The knowing smirk was bad enough, though.

“Rufus is arranging a collection for the Widow Richardson”, the nobleman said, “after her husband went down in “HMS Primrose”. Would you take him a donation for me when you return home?”

“Of course”, Dean smiled. Many people would have been surprised that the eternally grouchy Barton blacksmith would end up in charge of such a thing, but the old man had a good heart, and besides, he knew enough about rather too many people in the village so that donations would soon be flooding in. “It is hardly out of my way.”

“I had hoped to ask Mr. Lindberg”, Sir Robert said, “as he came over earlier to fix Rowena's clock. But he is not yet finished yet.”

He soon will be, Dean thought cattily as he took the money.

+~+~+

Dean had the foresight to call on his aunt the following day. Although she was, in the words of Rufus Turner, 'tighter than a duck's arse', she hated being outdone by anyone in being seen to be generous. And Dean was being a good nephew in alerting her to the fact that her especial rival, the owner of Barton Park, was being talked about in the town as having given a fair-sized sum to the fund for Widow Richardson. 

He left with an even larger donation, and got something that was perilously close to a grin from the surly blacksmith when he handed it over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aerolite; an old term for meteorite.


	7. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. Castiel discovers via Colonel Lucifer Brandon that the rumours about Lieutenant Balthazar Willoughby are, unfortunately, all too accurate. He also realizes, somewhat worryingly, that his scent has begun to change to match that of the alpha who keeps 'running into him'. Meanwhile, Samandriel falls off a chair.

Mr. Castiel Dashwood was not often grateful that his hair was a permanent disaster area. However, returning to the cottage moments after a certain alpha had..... yes, that again, and for the third time now, he hoped that it would help cover his rather higher level of dishevelment that usual. He was helped by the fact that his mother was full of the positive responses to her writings in the newspaper, though he winced when she went on to say that she hoped to persuade them to publish some of her stories one day. The good people of Barton Ferrers may not have been saints, but they did not deserve that!

As it happened Castiel was rescued by the arrival some moments later of his friend Inias, although this was a double-edged sword as, being an omega, the latter could immediately detect the subtle change in Castiel's scent. Fortunately he was kind enough to wait until they were away from the house before commenting on it.

“That is three times now?” he asked. Castiel nodded.

“He seems unable to control himself”, he said, almost sadly. “And the noises he makes when he is with me – I am sure he is immensely grateful that science has as of yet found no way to record them, or he would surely die of utter mortification.”

“Or he could tell his aunt, and come into his inheritance when she expires from the shock!” Inias grinned.

Castiel had seen Lady Amara in town a few days back, alighting from her carriage. He had thought no-one could be that rude or imperious, but having seen the way she had treated everyone around her, he was rapidly revising that opinion. 

“I am sure that she would live long enough to disinherit him, if only through spite”, he said firmly. “And although I believe that Sir Robert would step in and help as much as he could, Dean deserves better.”

Inias looked hard at him.

“So it is Dean now?” he asked. “No longer Mr. Ferrers?”

Castiel groaned.

“He is a good man”, he said, “and definitely an attractive one. He should make a much better match than me.”

“His body does not seem to think so”, Inias pointed out.

“This is the nineteenth century”, Castiel said, a little sadly. “Marriage is about money and titles, not some chemical reaction. I wish that things were different, but....”

He trailed off, and they walked together in silence.

+~+~+

Castiel liked his brothers – well, as much as any man can like his brothers in this or any other age. But sometimes (very often in Gabriel's case) he wanted to slap them. 

He and Gabriel had walked down to the village to fetch some groceries, and his younger brother had been sulking because their mother would, for once, not give him money for sweets (she had made the quite unreasonable demand that he should tidy his half of the bedroom, which the middle Dashwood had interpreted as throwing everything onto Samandriel's side of the room; unhappily for him his younger brother had contrived to throw it all back moments before their mother had arrived for her inspection). She had been Displeased, as was witnessed by Gabriel's still glowing left ear.

They were within sight of the gatehouse when Castiel saw someone approaching down the road from the house.

“La, it is that old fogey Colonel Brandon!” Gabriel said dismissively. “I do not think I can bear his presence yet again. I shall take the things to the house so you can talk to him.”

Before Castiel could object, his brother had grabbed both bags and was hurrying off down a side-path, which would at least double his journey home. The elder omega would have had to have been blind not to notice the disappointment in the soldier's face as he drew near, but he tactfully refrained from commenting on it.

“Apologies for my brother”, he said ruefully. “We are still trying to instill some social niceties into his character, but it is a Sisyphean task.”

“Actually, it was you that I wished to talk to”, the colonel said, to Castiel's surprise. “Now that your brother has taken your load, may we walk?”

It struck Castiel that the colonel was an un-mated alpha, which meant that it was technically improper for the two of them to walk together. But he felt that he could trust the man, and besides, something in his tone betook serious matters. They walked back along the estate edge – the omega noted that the soldier made sure that they were within sight of the gatehouse – before stopping at a fallen tree. The colonel hesitated before beginning.

“What I have to say is very painful”, he said seriously. “Dean – Mr. Ferrers – and I discussed whether to approach you, but in view of the village gossip about Mr. Willoughby and your brother, we felt it advisable.”

“I do not think that there is anything formal between them”, Castiel said, “though there may well be an Understanding.”

“It might be well for your brother if it proceeds no further than that, then.”

Castiel looked at the colonel in surprise. So those rumours had been at least partly true, then.

“May I ask why?” he asked. The alpha hesitated, then began.

“You are an observant man, Mr. Dashwood”, he said. “I do not doubt that you have noted that I have certain.... feelings as regards your brother Gabriel.”

“I have”, Castiel said warily. The colonel took a deep breath, then continued.

“Some years ago, I fell in love”, the soldier said, much to Castiel's surprise. “His name was Mr. Stephen Andrews, and he was the omega son of one of my father's friends. Because he was the favourite of a great-aunt of his, he stood to inherit some ten thousand at some point, so a poor alpha set on a dangerous military career was not an option. Yet despite that, I loved him and, glory be, he returned that love.”

Castiel swallowed.

“I could have seen him happy”, the colonel continued, a bitter note creeping into his voice, “but for the actions of a young soldier who had recently come under my command. He knew of our covert relationship, and used that knowledge to establish himself in the boy's affections during my absences. I suspected nothing, until one day Stevie told me that he was pregnant. With the man's child.”

Castiel gulped. The colonel nodded.

“Willoughby”, he confirmed. “He was sixteen years of age at the time, and Stevie was still fifteen – yes, I know, under-aged. He was of course thrown out of the house, and I lost all contact with him despite my efforts. By the time I found him again it was too late; he had died giving birth to a daughter. He had left me a note pleading for forgiveness, and asking me to take the girl as my ward.”

Castiel winced. That was the reproductive downside of omegas; giving birth at less than sixteen – well, his fellow omega had stood next to no chance. It was frankly amazing that the child had survived.

“The irony”, the colonel continued, a bitter note entering his voice, “was that his great-aunt repented her actions too late, and bequeathed her estate – Delaford – to me. I suppose that she could have left it to Stevie's daughter, but she knew that I would always put her interests before mine.”

“Which you have”, Castiel guessed. The colonel nodded. 

“Which I always have”, he said firmly. “It is just.... Gabriel is the image of my poor Stevie, and to see that rat Willoughby courting him – it makes me want to kill him!”

Castiel knew from the look on the soldier's face that that was far from an idle threat.

“Is the young girl well?” he asked politely.

“Her name is Stephanie, after her poor papa”, the colonel smiled. “Yes, she thrives. I have temporarily given her my surname, though it will be her choice when she is twenty-one as to whether she chooses to keep it. I may change it sooner, if she so wants. Her wishes are paramount.”

Castiel's face darkened.

“What you are telling me”, he said slowly, “is that the lieutenant's intentions towards my brother are not only not serious, but aimed at getting him between the sheets as soon as possible?”

The colonel nodded.

“His nature is such that he must marry money”, he said, “so I know that he cannot be serious about Gabriel. I am afraid that I took the liberty of ascertaining your brother's age and birthday, and was concerned to note that he is fast approaching his sixteenth. And you know the life of an active soldier these days; sooner or later the regiment will re-locate elsewhere, and Willoughby will go with them. Which means he may act sooner rather than later.”

Castiel thought for a while.

“I have a question”, he said, “if I may. This must have happened not long after Willoughby joined the army?”

“Yes”, he said. “Dame Agatha would not buy him a commission until he had served full three years as a regular soldier. A wise precaution, given his nature.”

“Then why was he not cashiered as a result?” Castiel asked. “With the much-needed reforms of the Duke of York, the army has much higher standards over such things than it once used to.”

The colonel sighed.

“He had charmed poor Stevie into telling everyone else that a young lad also under my command was the real father”, he said sadly. “Even as he lay dying, Willoughby still held some sway over the boy; I had to promise never to use what he said against the rat! That is what I fear about your brother; that he may be able to do the same again and once more evade justice.”

Castiel sighed.

“I thank you, colonel, for what you have told me today”, he said.

The colonel bowed, and left him.

+~+~+

“So what did the old stick-in-the-mud want?” Gabriel asked once he arrived back at the cottage.

“Just to talk”, Castiel said dismissively. “Some of us enjoy meaningful conversations that are not about confectionery or romantic literature, Gabriel.”

“I talk about other things!” his brother protested. 

Samandriel laughed so much that he promptly fell off his chair. Gabriel threw a book at him.

+~+~+

Castiel made an unscheduled visit to the town the following day, and called in on Rufus, the eternally sour blacksmith. The man never spread gossip – that was why people confided in him – but he was willing to confirm the colonel's story one hundred per cent. Which meant that Castiel Dashwood had a problem. Confronting a smitten Gabriel was out of the question – his brother never listened to facts and rational arguments at the best of times – but Gabriel's nature meant that he might easily slip away to spend time with his handsome lieutenant. And Castiel could hardly watch him around the clock.

He was very, very worried.

+~+~+  
Note: To be cashiered was (and still is) to be dishonourably discharged from the military. Sisyphean is a now rarely-used adjective meaning virtually impossible. For upsetting the Gods, Sisyphus was condemned to push a stone to the top of a mountain in the Underworld, the 'divine joke' being that the stone always slipped from his grasp just before he reached the top.


	8. Visitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8\. Laird Crowley proves he is more than a pretty face, and Dean politely refrains from making the obvious joke there. The alpha once again uses subtle means to part his aunt from her money, finds that he is receiving a surprise female visitor from Surrey, and has a fourth encounter with Mr. Castiel Dashwood that is completely uneventful (provided one redefines 'completely uneventful' to include a certain amount of nuzzling, and then redefines 'a certain amount' as 'a lot').

“Luke has informed Mr. Castiel Dashwood of certain matters appertaining our lusty lieutenant”, Dean informed Sir Robert, as they waited for dinner to be served. “He was grateful for the information, and has pledged to keep an eye on developments.”

“Not the only Dashwood that someone is keeping an eye on”, Crowley muttered. His husband snorted, but did not reprimand him.

“I doubt that Willoughby would ever do anything.... serious”, Dean said, scowling at the smirking omega, “but at least Mr. Dashwood is prepared for the worst.”

“Why not take more direct action?” Crowley asked. They both looked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?” his husband asked. 

“Well”, the omega said, “Dame Willoughby is not going to be best pleased when she finds out that her great-nephew is dating someone so.... unsuitable, especially as she has her own plans for him. If the news were to filter through to her, say, through a gossiping servant....”

“She would immediately accelerate her own plans for his betrothal”, Sir Robert finished. “Excellent thinking, Crowley.”

“Well, I have a sharp mind for such things”, the omega said easily, before shooting Dean a knowing look. “And a sharp nose.”

Dean felt nervous. He knew that omegas were far more sensitive to scents that anyone else, and Crowley would surely have detected that both his and Castiel's scents were becoming more similar after they.......

“Yes, our laird is not just a pretty face”, the alpha said innocently. That earnt him a fierce scowl.

+~+~+

Dean was young, fit and active. But sometimes, he hated his body. Like today, when without his even telling it, it once more took him the long way round to the Barton Park estate that just happened to pass via a certain omega's cottage, a certain omega who smelt like heaven....

He also needed to start wearing looser trousers.

Of course that would not have mattered had the Fates not combined to ensure that, on this particular October day, he met said omega coming from the cottage and heading towards the track that led up Nun's Hill. Every shred of his alpha instinct made him want to grab and claim him, but he somehow held back. He was stronger than the chemistry that bound the two men together.

It was, it might be admitted, a bit difficult to keep telling himself that with his nose buried in the omega's neck, but he made the effort. And when the omega tentatively wrapped his arms round the alpha, there may or may not have been a small, happy whimper. Or three.

“Hullo again, Mr. Ferrers”, Castiel smiled. “I understand that you were responsible for the warning I received recently as regards Lieutenant Willoughby.”

“Oh. Yes. Me. Right.”

His voice was a little muffled for some reason. At least this was not a path that led anywhere special, so they were unlikely to be seen like this. It reduced the embarrassment factor from mortifying to grossly humiliating. 

“It was very considerate of you”, Castiel smiled, patting the alpha gently on his back as if he feared too sudden a contact might spook him. “I have not of course tried to warn Gabriel – his character is such that he would react very badly, as I am sure you understand – but I am monitoring the situation and trying to discourage any hopes on my brother's part. Unfortunately the lieutenant seems set on raising them.”

“Oh. Uh, how?”

A two-word sentence. Go Ferrers Primus!

“Gabriel recently gave him a lock of his hair as a keepsake”, Castiel sighed. “I hope and pray that the lieutenant does not have any dishonourable intentions, but he is raising hopes for my brother that will only end in tears.”

“That is not good”, Dean agreed.

“My brother thinks that he is serious”, Castiel sighed. “And our mother does not help matters.”

“Yes. Uh, sorry. Sir Robert is expecting me.”

There was a pained silence.

“Unless you plan on taking me with you to the house, I rather think you will have to unhand me”, Castiel said. 

Dean could almost hear the smile in his voice. Snarky omega! He made a great effort and tore himself away, then strode away with what little dignity he had left.

Two minutes later he realized that he was going the wrong way, and would have to go back. And that shy smile that the omega gave him as he passed was just asking for it...

Ten more minutes later, he was finally on his way.

+~+~+

It was just not Dean's day. Sir Robert and Crowley had gone for a walk around the back garden, so he visited the bathroom to, ahem, take care of certain matters. Then he walked around the back to find them.

He was just passing a small summer-house when he heard a pleasured groan coming from within. He winced, but before he could escape, Scrapper, one of Sir Robert's dogs ran up barking at him. Moments later, Mrs. Shepherd emerged, looking a little worse for wear.

“Dean”, she purred. “Mr. Trenton was just... showing me his bedding plants.”

Dean suspected that the deputy gardener had been showing her rather more, a suspicion that was only confirmed when Cole emerged without his over-shirt on. The alpha just shook his head and walked away as quickly as he could, only to see Sir Robert and his mate returning from the lake arm in arm.

He was not resentful because he seemed to be the only person not getting some. He was not, damnation!

+~+~+

Dean had one stroke of good luck that day in that he ran into his brother in town, so was able to treat him to luncheon. And if that meant Sammy spending thirty minutes talking about a new barouche that he thought was fitting for someone of his standing, well, at least there was pie.

“You had a letter whilst you were out”, Sam said, reaching into his pocket and extracting an envelope, which he handed to his brother. “I met the postman and paid for it. It is from London.”

Dean was at once anxious. Praise God that Ruby would not be coming down here?

“Sammy, the great detective”, he quipped. 

“I opened it by accident”, Sam said, “as I thought the 'D' was an 'S'. It was from Charlie; we both know how terrible her writing is. She is coming down here for a while because, and I quote, 'otherwise I will be guilty of sororicide, and I will got to my Maker feeling that it had been totally worth it!'.”

Understandable, Dean thought as he tackled the pie.

“Siblings!” he muttered, earning himself an eye-roll from his brother.

“That sister of hers is something else”, Sam said, toying with his own dessert. “She may be good-looking, but I pity the man who Miss Ruby Steele eventually sinks her claws into.”

Thanks, Dean thought bitterly. Still, at least Ruby was still a couple of hundred miles away, and he would have the infinitely preferable company of the indefatigable Charlie for a time. Life would definitely be more exciting with her around.

He noticed his brother sniffing the air, and felt himself tense up.

“Are you using a new cologne or something?” Sam asked. “You smell off today.”

“Probably just need a bath”, Dean said airily, though he was secretly horrified that his own brother had detected some of Castiel Dashwood's scent on him. He must refrain from molesting the omega for that heavenly scent in future.

He just knew that his conscience was laughing at him.

+~+~+

The alpha was scheduled to visit his aunt later that same day – after, due to a sudden change of plans, a thorough bath. He arrived to find her is a less than happy mood.

“That idiot Father Carver has been here”, she said, clearly annoyed. “He actually wanted me to fund some almshouses for the village. The very idea!”

“The town has some”, Dean said. “Small ones, though.”

“He said that he fears the coaching companies may go down the west road and avoid the village altogether”, she snapped. “Impudence!”

“There is a demand for more speed these days”, Dean said. “And I have heard it bruted about that the town is thinking of expanding its almshouses. Perhaps Father Carver can see the problem that that might cause down here.”

She peered at him in confusion.

“Explain!” she barked. 

“Well”, he said, “if there are more places for the poor in the town, then I presume that the good Father foresees some poor people from the village choosing to live there instead. Dark Barton is small enough as it is; any smaller and as he says, the coaching companies may not think it worth stopping at our inn. Or they may choose to stop less frequently; either way it would not be good for the village.”

His aunt had clearly not considered that. Dean pressed home his advantage.

“I would presume”, he said casually, “that Father Carver envisages just a small row of almshouses, much the same as the town currently has. It may even persuade more people from outlying areas to move in. Perhaps even some from the town?”

That, he knew, would be a persuasive argument. His aunt had always resented the fact that Dark Barton was much the smaller of the two places in the valley, especially as, many years back, it had been larger than its northern neighbour.

“I should of course require them to name the buildings in my honour”, she said stiffly.

“Of course, aunt”, he said loyally. “Why, that is something even Sir Robert Middleton does not have to his name.”

She smiled beatifically at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Letters sent in those days were usually paid for by the recipients. Sneaky people would communicate short messages on the outside so the recipient could take it, read the message whilst pretending to check if it was for them, then refuse to pay for it! Samuel Ferrers paid, though he was probably distracted by thinking of his potential new barouche, which was (and still is) a four-wheeled summer carriage with a retractable weather-cover.


	9. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9\. There is a Greek tragedy in Barton Ferrers, involving Mrs. Dashwood. Castiel is forced to the unwelcome realization that Gabriel's relationship with Lieutenant Balthazar Willoughby may be even more trouble than he first thought. The omega sees Mr. Dean Ferrers (at a safe distance) in the high street – but the alpha is accompanied by a most attractive lady, with whom he is clearly quite intimate.....

“Have you noticed that Gabriel had been acting strange of late?”

Castiel looked at the youngest Dashwood in surprise.

“No more than usual for him, Alfie”, he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Ever since he has taken up with that lusty lieutenant”, Samandriel said, “he seems much keener on going out for walks. But he does not go to the camp.”

“You have followed him?” Castiel was surprised. His younger brother shook his head.

“Betty, our maid, helps out at the house from time to time”, he said. “I spoke to her the other day, and she say he always goes via there. And he is not away long enough to then go all the way to the camp and back.”

Castiel looked at him curiously. Samandriel blushed.

“All right, I timed it”, he muttered.

“What is your point?” Castiel asked patiently.

“You know as well as I do that Gabriel and exercise go together like the French and soap”, Samandriel said tartly. “It is odd.”

“Too many detective novels for you!” Castiel laughed. “We are cutting you off!”

+~+~+

“Prices are so high these days!” grumbled Mrs. Dashwood later that day. “It is these blasted Frogs and their war. Let me near that Little General and I'd show him a thing or two!”

“I think there are rules in war against that sort of thing”, Samandriel whispered to Castiel. “Something about cruel and unusual punishment?”

Castiel only narrowly suppressed a snigger. Their mother eyed them both suspiciously.

“It is not all the fault of the French”, Gabriel said testily. They had all just returned from a trip to the village where, because their mother's linens had been more costly than expected, he had not been allowed any sweets. “Bal.... Lieutenant Willoughby is half-French.”

Castiel had thought that he had detected a faint accent when the lieutenant had called. And he was certainly charming enough to be a Frenchman. He wondered....

“Is he?” he asked. “He does not look it.”

“Half-French and a quarter Scottish”, Gabriel said. “His father married an Frenchwoman, a Miss Roche. She died giving birth to him.”

“He is so handsome”, Mrs. Dashwood said dreamily.

“A soldier who has not yet actually fought”, Samandriel grinned, being careful to position the table between himself and the middle Dashwood before speaking. “So brave!”

“At least dear Wellesley is giving them What For in Portugal”, their mother said. “But it has been going on forever.”

“Sixteen years, including the brief truce a few years back”, Samandriel said. “Napoleon rules the land – most of it – but we rule the seas. If we are suffering high prices, then the French must be even worse off.”

“It is his own fault”, Castiel said unsympathetically. “Trying to blockade our island by stopping our trade was never going to work. It seems that he has forgotten Camperdown, and Aboukir, and Copenhagen, and Trafalgar. We have destroyed more of their trade than they ever have of ours, though I would wager the Little General and those around him do not go short. Those at the top never do.”

“And until he beats us at sea or we him on land, it is stalemate”, Samandriel agreed.

Castiel Dashwood was highly observant, and he noticed that his brother Gabriel bore a definite smirk as he sauntered off to his room. The sort of look that implied that he knew something that no-one else did on the subject. But what could a flibbertigibbet like Gabriel know about the war?

+~+~+

Castiel might have mocked his youngest brother's penchant for playing detective, but with a middle brother like Gabriel, both he and Samandriel had to be on their guard at all times. He had only seen that sort of look on his brother's face one time before when, during an enforced stay in London last year, the latter had covertly struck up a friendship with an alpha neighbour. Quite how far that might have proceeded would never be known thanks to a disgruntled servant tattling on them, but Castiel remembered how insufferably smug his brother had been at the time. And now he looked the same about Lieutenant Willoughby.

The one reassurance Castiel had was that he believed the lieutenant could not entertain any dishonourable intentions towards Gabriel, if only because his great-aunt would cut him off at once. The eldest Dashwood had learnt through village gossip that Dame Agatha had her eye on a ward of a relation of hers, the family living just north of London. This ward was a Miss Genevieve Grey, an attractive lady (or at least her ten thousand was attractive, Castiel's informant had snarked), so the soldier could have no real interest in Gabriel. The problem was that Castiel's brother seemed blissfully unaware of that fact. But then Gabriel only rarely interfaced with that concept called reality.

Castiel gave the matter some thought before reaching a potentially very unpleasant conclusion. He decided to take a long walk the next day, and see if he could catch Colonel Brandon up on his Delaford estate. He was fortunate; the alpha was home, although Castiel noted the very slight disappointment when he found it was him and not Gabriel who had called.

“I wished to ask you a question”, Castiel said, “and I did not wish to do so in front of anyone at Barton. I know that before he came here Sir Robert was in the army, and worked for the government a considerable time thereafter. Yet no-one in the town seems to know exactly what he did when the fighting stopped. In a place like this, I find such a knowledge gap curious.”

“I see”, the colonel smiled.

“What I find even more curious”, Castiel said, “is that he seems to have made an immense amount of money in those years. Now, I know he is good with his finances, but to be able to afford a large estate like Barton Ferrers – well, I am surprised. I am led to wonder in just what capacity he served His Majesty.”

The colonel's smile widened.

“You are very intelligent, Mr. Dashwood”, he said. “Why do you not hazard a guess?”

Castiel hesitated.

“The most dangerous, and therefore quite rightly the most rewarding work he might have done, would have been in the field of espionage.”

“I can of course neither confirm or deny that”, the colonel said. “May I know why you are interested?”

Castiel's face grew sombre.

“I would hazard further”, Castiel said. “The intelligence community must, by its nature, be a small and select one. I would therefore conjecture that Sir Robert has retained some degree of contact with his former friends in London.”

The colonel's smile faded.

“May I inquire as to what your interest in this is, sir?” he asked, his tone now wary. Castiel sighed.

“Because”, he said heavily, “someone who, until recently, had abjured any form of exercise, has suddenly become very obliging in calling in at Barton Park and taking letters into town for them. And maybe, not directly to town.”

He knew the moment that the colonel got it. The alpha's rugged features turned deathly pale.

+~+~+

Colonel Brandon could not of course go into details but, after a short discussion, Castiel learnt that the British offensive in Walcheren was an even bigger disaster than the press had reported, and that with the government looking for some way to extract themselves with minimum damage, that as one of the government's most trusted former employees Sir Robert had indeed been consulted.

Castiel was relieved when the colonel said that he would return with him, and then proceed to discuss 'matters' with Sir Robert. They drove back in the colonel's gig, and the omega was dropped off at his cottage.

“Who was that?” Gabriel asked curiously as Castiel entered the kitchen. “It looked like that old fogey Colonel Brandon.”

“He overtook me on my walk, and kindly gave me a lift home”, Castiel explained. “It looked like rain.”

Gabriel looked at him dubiously.

“That was very nice of the colonel”, Mrs. Dashwood said. “Such a pleasant man. And very handsome.”

“You are not thinking of marrying him, mama?” Samandriel asked. She laughed.

“Goodness me no!” she exclaimed. “Besides, I know that his preference is exclusively for omegas.”

She looked knowingly at Castiel, who blushed and left the room. But not before he noticed Gabriel looking rather uneasy. Interesting.....

+~+~+

“Castiel, dear?”

“Yes, mama?”

“Would you be so kind as to take that old red dress of mine down to Mr. Callender at the theatre? He said he needed one for the play that his Dramatic Society is putting on, and it is just the right size.”

Castiel uttered a quick prayer that his mother's writings were in no way involved in this production. He had to live near this town.

“What play is it, mama?” he asked.

“It is some old Greek tragedy called 'Ion'”, she said dismissively. “Joshua – Mr. Callender – is sure that it will raise the tone of the neighbourhood.”

“Lost cause there”, Samandriel muttered from his chair as his mother went to get the dress. Castiel just shook his head.

Mrs. Dashwood clipped her youngest son's ear when she came back through the other door. Samandriel yelped in surprise. Castiel did not snigger. 

Much.

+~+~+

Mr. Callender was pleased with the dress although, Castiel noted, he did look slightly distracted. And that was not the only thing.

“I trust that you have everything you need for the play?” Castiel asked politely. “It cannot have been easy, obtaining things in such a small town.”

“Yes”, the beta said, scratching the back of his neck diffidently. “Well, Mrs. Shepherd was, uh, very helpful. She brought down a lot of things earlier today.”

That was probably not the only thing she had brought down, Castiel thought cattily. The man's shirt was hanging out at the side, one cuff was loose and he had a flushed look on his face. The omega smiled as he left him; life in the country was not as dull as many people claimed.

He was browsing the shop windows when he spotted Mr. Dean Ferrers walking down the opposite pavement. He was not alone. With him was a glamorous-looking red-headed lady of around twenty years of age, and the two were clearly.... intimate. 

Something dark stirred within the omega, and he hurried inside the haberdasher's before he was seen. Old Mr. Fortescue was stood at the window, looking out.

“Nice to see Miss Steele back in town”, he said, looking across at the laughing couple. “She and Mr. Dean have always been good friends.”

“I have not seen her around before”, Castiel said.

“She and her brother are both long time acquaintances of his”, the haberdasher grinned. “Their father, Mr. Phineas, was tutor to the boys when they were growing up. I know that the family moved to Surrey recently, from somewhere in the North.”

“Miss Steele and Mr. Ferrers seem close”, Castiel observed.

“Rumour is that Mr. Ferrers.....”

Most annoyingly the door chose that moment to open, heralding the arrival of a customer. Even more annoyingly, it was Lady Amara de Noir. She looked Castiel up and down as if she could not believe that an actual omega was allowed out shopping on his own, and he muttered an excuse before fleeing. Fortunately the street was empty, Mr. Ferrers and his lady friend presumably having gone into another shop.

Castiel hurried home, feeling strangely unsettled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Walcheren campaign was an ill-judged attempt by the British to overstretch the French (many of whose armed men were holding down Spain and Portugal) through a landing in what is now the Netherlands. The French were better prepared and reacted far more quickly than expected, and the whole thing had to be abandoned after just a few months. A gig was (and is) a simple two-wheeled carriage, mostly for summer as it had no cover.


	10. Arrivals And Departures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10\. Dean has an unexpected opportunity to develop his running skills, but this does not get him out of having a Talk with his mother. Charlie arrives from Surrey, and he volunteers his friend for a job that he thinks she would be well suited for. Sir Robert finds his new language tutor Mr. Kevin Tran satisfactory, and Rowena finds him..... well, he quits the country soon after. And talking of quitting, a certain someone leaves unexpectedly for London.....

Mr. Dean Ferrers was wary around the fairer sex as a rule, but not his former tutor's elder daughter. Miss Charlene Steele had five thousand pounds, and could be expected to make a good match when she so wished. She was just approaching her twenty-first birthday, but was fortunate in that her father (and more importantly, the great-aunt who had gifted her the money) had agreed that her choice of spouse would be entirely her own and at a time of her own choosing.

Dean was one of the few people who knew both that Charlie would never marry, and the reason why. 

The two of them were walking down Barton Ferrers' high street when the alpha suddenly froze and pulled his friend close, earning himself an indignant squeak (he would later think himself lucky not to have also got an elbow in the kidneys, which would have been unfair as he had been the one to teach her self-defence). She looked at him in surprise.

“What is it?” she asked indignantly. “Did Molest A Red-Head In Public Week start without anyone informing me?”

“Him!” Dean hissed, pointing across the road to where a man – an omega by the size of him - was walking into the haberdashery. Charlie looked at him in confusion, and he groaned when he saw understanding in her eyes. That meant only one thing.

“Are you telling me”, she drawled, “that the alpha's alpha, Mr. Dean Ferrers, has a thing for stubbled omegas with sex hair?”

For once Dean was glad of the light rain, as it meant there was no-one around to see him blush.

“It's his scent”, he grumbled. “It's heavenly. The first time we met I went and....”

He stopped, blushing. Charlie had always had this ability to make him talk far too much, and the look on her face told him that she would want more. He groaned.

“I all but scented him!”

She stared at him in confusion.

“An alpha scenting an omega?” she asked, clearly confused. Then her eyes opened wide. “You didn't..... you know?”

“Didn't wave my fingers at him in some abstruse way?” he deflected. She swatted at him. 

“You know what I mean!”

“No, I didn't claim him”, Dean said bitterly. 

“But you wanted to”, she guessed. He nodded.

“I thought it was just a chemical reaction, you know”, he said. “Something that I could control by keeping my distance. But since he came down here I have got to know him better, and.....”

“Still, you only did it the once?”

“Uh.......” 

She looked at him incredulously.

“Twice?”

Where was a lightning strike when you needed one?

“Thrice?” she asked incredulously.

He shook his head again, and stared at the suddenly fascinating roadway.

“Whoa!” she exclaimed. “Yet you still have not bitten him. You have incredible self-control, alpha. Even if you are stalking him.”

“I know!” he whined. “I am a bad alpha! But he is so perfect, I just want.....”

“No details”, she said firmly. “I of all people do not wish to know, Dean. And what about Ruby?”

“That makes it even worse”, he sighed. “I do not suppose that she has magically found someone else?”

He did not notice the very slight hesitation before she shook her head.

“She is still set on marrying you when the old Witch of Endor kicks the bucket”, she said. “Though I would not put it past the old bag to live to a hundred, just to spite us all. That would put a spoke in my dear sister's schemes.”

Dean was torn, not knowing if such an event would be good or bad for him. And Miss Ruby Steele was really not that attractive, at least when compared to a scruffy, stubbled omega with hair that looked.....

He groaned aloud.

+~+~+

Later that day Dean had the onerous task of paying a further visit to his Aunt Amara. Sam would be eighteen years of age in July and had wanted to broach the subject of a possible increase in his allowance, although the moose was too scared to mention it to his aunt himself. As usual he had turned the puppy-dog eyes on his elder brother, who had held out for an impressive six seconds before buckling. Though he had drawn the line at asking her to fund the new barouche that his brother kept on keeping on about. There were limits!

In the event, things went better than he had hoped. His aunt was in a Good Mood for once, an article lauding her philanthropy over the new almshouses had appeared in an Exeter newspaper, which someone had sent to her. And a distant relation that she had not particularly liked had had the decency to shuffle off this mortal coil. Their passing meant that she got to play Lady Bountiful, as the man had a young grand-daughter to whom Lady Amara had stood godmother at her birth back in 1790, and whom she had just invited down to the estate.

“I volunteered you”, Dean told Charlie later, smirking at the fact that her mouth was full of sandwich and she could not immediately reply. “I pointed out that an un-mated alpha escorting a young lady around to whom he was technically a relative – well, as my aunt is so fond of saying, it would have been Most Highly Irregular!”

Charlie looked at him askance. Dean scowled. His impression of his aunt's voice had not been that bad!

“And this girl?” she asked eventually. “Is she, uh, pretty?”

“She hails from County Durham, in the North”, Dean said. “A young lady called Miss Dorothy Gale; Aunt Amara did not vouch anything about her looks, and I was so not going to ask.”

“If I end up walking out with someone looking like the back of a stagecoach, I am blaming you”, Charlie said. “And I shall re-write the 'Tales of Moondor' with you as scullery-maid, having been demoted from handmaiden for insubordination towards your rightful and noble Queen Celeste.”

“Yes, your majesty”, he teased.

+~+~+

Dean was pleasantly surprised to reach home and find his mother had visited, and making dinner for him. Not only that, she had even baked a pie. 

She had baked a pie? Uh oh. Dean's heart sank. They were going to have a Talk.

“Sit down, son”, she smiled. 

At times like this Dean really wished he had his brother's puppy-dog eyes to fall back on. Unfortunately he knew that when he tried the same look, he ended up, to quote Charlie, looking like he needed the bathroom.

“So tell me about this omega”, his mother asked.

“How did you...?”

He froze in horror. She was holding one of his ties, the same one he had placed under his pillow because he had spent so long rubbing it against Mr. Castiel Dashwood the last time they had met that it had picked up something of the omega's scent. Dean may or may not have gone to sleep holding it one one or more nights recently. He had definitely not spent a large amount of time sniffing or cuddling it, as that would have been just weird.

“Mr. Castiel Dashwood”, he said at last. “A pleasant young man, but not someone my aunt would approve of, so there is no hope.”

She looked sadly at him. If he were being honest with himself (which was rare), he would have admitted that he could have broken free from his aunt's grip and thrown himself onto the mercy of Sir Robert, even though it would have led to a steep drop in his income. But there was also his brother to consider too, not forgetting a certain lady up in Surrey.

“It has your scent and his”, she said, holding it out to him. He took it carefully and shoved it into a pocket. “Are you quite sure.....?”

“Yes, mama. Quite sure.”

She looked at him sadly, but mercifully did not press the issue.

+~+~+

Sir Robert seemed a little distracted when Dean visited him two days later. The young alpha inquired as to whether anything was wrong.

“Just the travails of life”, he sighed. “Crowley thought it might be character forming for Robbie and Stephen to learn a foreign language, so we found a tutor that specialized in Far Eastern tongues to come in for a term.”

“That seems sensible”, Dean said. “Their languages are, I know, very different, so after learning them, most other things would appear very easy. Was the tutor not satisfactory?”

“A young beta called Mr. Kevin Tran, and I found him quite satisfactory”, Sir Robert said glumly. “Unfortunately Rowena found him more than satisfactory.”

“Ugh!”

“He had returned to Malay”, the nobleman sighed. “Apparently facing the terrors of the jungle is not so bad when the alternative is Rowena. Thank the Lord that she is poor Crowley's step-mother, and that he does not take after her.”

Dean laughed.

“I cannot imagine our dear laird seducing anyone!” he said.

The silence was too long, and Dean made the mistake of looking at his friend's self-satisfied face.

“Spare me the details!” 

The nobleman smirked.

“Actually it involved some purchases from the local clothing shop that he said were for......”

Sir Robert Middleton was alone in the room, except for the sound of someone sprinting into the distance. He grinned.

+~+~+

Dean wished to write to his financial adviser in London that week, so the following day he walked down to town to catch the weekly mail coach that linked the capital with Bristol and Exeter. He only just made it, the coach had arrived early and was drawing up as he handed over his letter. It was always a scene of bustle and mayhem as the passengers and mail bags were exchanged, and Dean was about to head back home when he saw someone hefting his bag out to the coach. It was Lieutenant Balthazar Willoughby.

He went inside the tavern and sought out James, the innkeeper, who sold the tickets for the coach company. The man confirmed that Willoughby had purchased a ticket for London. 

A single ticket.....

+~+~+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Stagecoaches at this time were entering their golden age, with improved safety designs and primitive suspension systems. The trip from Barton Ferrers to London would have taken a couple of days, as Balthazar would have had to take the slow mail coach to Bristol and stay overnight there, then connect with a faster passenger coach. Three decades later the journey could have been done in under a quarter of that time by train.


	11. Liaisons And Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11\. Castiel's worst fears about the antics of his brother Gabriel begin to be realized. The omega has an encounter with a certain green-eyed bow-legged alpha that may or may not include a degree of nuzzling (it does). There is some French kissing (Rowena, as if you did not guess!), Samandriel is a teenager and proud of it, and Mrs. Dashwood is, unfortunately, herself.

Although he mocked his youngest brother's interest in detective novels, Castiel was very much the private eye as he slipped out of the cottage just moments after Gabriel had left for another walk. As he had expected, his brother headed up to the big house first, and emerged after only a few minutes to head off down towards the valley between the Bartons. Castiel had a bad feeling that if he did not know precisely where his brother was headed, he could probably guess as to whom he planned to meet. 

Sure enough, when Gabriel stopped and sat down on an old tree-stump, he was not alone for long. A familiar figure came walking up to him, and kissed him in a way that was some way beyond familiar. It was Lieutenant Balthazar Willoughby.

Castiel stared in resigned misery, though not so much that he did not notice Gabriel hand something over to the soldier, most certainly a letter. They kissed again, then the lieutenant strode off in the direction of the town, whistling cheerfully as he opened and read the missive. Gabriel started back to the cottage, and Castiel moved back to wait for him behind a tree.

The shriek and the guilty start that he got was most gratifying.

“What have you been doing, Gabriel?” Castiel asked sharply. His brother flushed bright red. 

“Nothing!” he said, a little too fervently. His brother's eyes narrowed.

“I saw you handing a letter over to Lieutenant Willoughby”, Castiel said. “What was in it?”

Gabriel turned ever redder.

“Promise you will not be angry?” Gabriel said, looking pleadingly at his brother.

“I promise to be less angry that I will be if you have not told me five minutes from now.”

Gabriel stared hard at the ground, and muttered something unintelligible.

“Pardon?” Castiel said.

“Balthy wanted me to, uh, intercept certain communications from the house”, Gabriel said. “He said that he was afraid that someone up there was working for the French.”

Castiel groaned. His brother was so gullible. 

“Did Bal.... Lieutenant Willoughby say why he wanted you to do that?” he hedged. 

“He thinks the government is planning a major move against the French and that someone – Mrs. Shepherd, he suspects – may be leaking information to them. She does speak French.”

Only what she is learning from the young Middleton's French tutor, Mr. Benjamin Lafitte, Castiel thought. And that is probably less for espionage and more for.... no, he was not going to think about it.

Damnation, he had thought about it!

“You poor, foolish omega”, Castiel said sadly. “He has taken you in completely.”

Gabriel muttered something about returning to the cottage, and Castiel decided to let him go. He had to pay a call himself

+~+~+

Castiel realized that it was later than he had thought, and as he heard the town clock striking midday he knew that he was going to miss lunch and his mother's cooking. He would call in to apologize on his way to the great house. He was therefore a little prëoccupied as he rounded a corner and walked right into Mr. Dean Ferrers, who must have been similarly distracted.

The noise that the alpha was putting out as he once more nuzzled into Castiel's neck was almost pitiful, sounding like a wounded animal that had finally found shelter. The omega really should not be allowing such behaviour – especially as he really needed to get to see Sir Robert - but they were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and it seemed to make Dean happy, so he allowed it.

The clock striking the quarter-hour finally brought him to his senses, and he patted the alpha soothingly. Dean let out a heart-breaking sigh of contentment.

“I have just come from the town”, he muttered into the omega's neck, his breath hot against Castiel's skin. “Lieutenant Willoughby has just left for London – on a single ticket.”

Castiel turned pale.

“Damnation!” he growled. 

“Your brother will be upset”, Dean said. 

He was right, Castiel thought, though not for the reasons he knew.

“I need to see Sir Robert”, the omega said. “I must run. Goodbye, sir.”

As he hurried away he thought (possibly a little belatedly) of Dean and the sweet red-headed girl. It was not jealousy that was making his stomach turn at that thought. It was not!

+~+~+

Castiel called briefly at the cottage and grabbed a couple of apples which he ate as he hurried up to Barton Park. There he asked for Sir Robert, and explained what he thought was happening. Surprisingly, the nobleman did not seem that perturbed.

“Brandon told me about your conversation”, he said. “Do not fret.”

“But what if he is supplying information to our enemies across the Channel?” Castiel fretted. To his surprise the nobleman chuckled.

“Brandon came up with the idea, rather than me”, he smiled. “We concocted some false information about a sudden increase in our efforts in Walcheren and a possible drive towards northern France, so they will be allocating more men there whilst Wellesley continues to push them back in Iberia.”

“So he has done no harm, then?” Castiel asked. The nobleman frowned and shook his head.

“He may have obtained some of the initial advice that I sent the government a while back”, he admitted, “which as I am sure you know are not going well. But now we have his number, he is worse than useless to that damn Froggie general!”

Castiel smiled in relief. Sir Robert summoned a manservant and wrote a few words on a piece of paper which he folded up and gave to him. The man scuttled away.

“Brandon thought that today might be the day”, the nobleman explained, “especially as there is the weekly coach to Bristol where he can get a faster one to London, although he will have to stay there overnight. Brandon will leave this evening and ride overnight; he will be in the capital well ahead of the rapscallion. All will be well.”

Castiel was grateful that the nobleman did not comment on his brother's gullibility.

“And they will arrest the lieutenant?” he asked. To his surprise Sir Robert shook his head.

“Enemy spies are much more useful when they believe themselves undetected”, he said. “He will of course be observed and followed, and he may lead us to someone bigger. But not for long, I hope. I for one will take immense pleasure when the day comes to let Dame Agatha know just what a complete rat her great-nephew really is! He will find it hard enough to explain his sudden departure.”

Castiel was about to take his leave when the nobleman spoke again.

“Oh, and would you be so good as to call on Crowley before you leave?” he asked. “He sprained his ankle the other day, and has been confined to the house for a week.”

Bearing in mind village speculation was that the laird was some sort of demon who was allergic to sunlight, his being seen so rarely in the village, Castiel doubted that would be much of an imposition.

“How did that happen?” he asked idly.

Sir Robert blushed horribly.

“Kindly do not tell me!” Castiel said firmly. “Yes, I will call on your mate before I leave.”

He bowed and left the room, trying not to think..... too late! Was everyone doing It except him?

+~+~+

The fact that, on his return from the laird's room, he ran across Mrs. Shepherd and the French tutor coming out of her room both looking the worse for wear rather suggested that the answer to that question was one that he would not like. And he was not in the least bit jealous about the slightly dazed look on the beta tutor's face, or the red marks that accompanied it. He was not, damnation!

+~+~+

It was getting late by this time, and Castiel decided to return to the cottage. Gabriel had gone to his and Samandriel's room, so he was able to inform his mother and youngest brother about Lieutenant Willoughby's departure, though not of course the full story behind it. Mrs. Dashwood suggested going to talk with him, but Castiel said that Gabriel would probably want some time alone.

Samandriel looked pointedly at his elder brother once their mother had left.

“Those look like graze marks on your neck again”, he said with a smile. “What is that now? Five times that he has molested but not actually bitten you.”

“It is not molesting!” Castiel said, annoyed. “I do however find it rather sad that such a small thing brings him so much happiness. I am sure that he must be grievously embarrassed at his behaviour, but he appears unable to control himself.”

“Pot, kettle”, his brother muttered. Castiel glared at him.

“Even someone of your meager years knows that a claiming bite is not far short of an engagement, thanks to the new laws”, he said shortly. 

That was true; an act of parliament slipped through along with the abolition of the slave trade two years back had forced alphas to pay compensation to any omega they bit, as it rendered them unable to marry until the mark healed. Of course there was the not inconsiderable hurdle of proving the matter, but it had discouraged the distasteful practice amongst certain groups of alphas who had been competing as to whom could bite the greatest number of omegas in a given time.

“I turned thirteen this year”, Samandriel said proudly. “I am a teenager now.”

“Just six more years and you will have caught me up, then”, Castiel grinned. “Oh wait.....”

He easily dodged the book that his brother threw at him.

+~+~+

“You have a letter, Castiel”, his mother said across the breakfast table the following morning. “It is from Delaford.”

“Why is the colonel writing to you?” Gabriel asked, a little too loudly. His mother looked at him curiously, but did not comment on his sharp tone.

“Perhaps he has realized that you think him too old, and had turned his attentions to Castiel?” Samandriel suggested, a sly smile on his young face. “He is an attractive man, even for someone of such 'a great age'.”

Castiel read the note. It thanked him for his role in helping 'sort certain matters out', and promised a further communication when the sender returned from London. 

“Just a thank-you note for a matter that I assisted him with”, he said.

“Horizontal or vertical?” his mother asked blithely. 

The three omegas stared at her in shock. She stared back.

“Well, someone has to say something”, she said crossly. “At this rate none of you will ever be going up the aisle. I think my dear Castiel would enjoy having a bit of the devil in him, and besides, one can see from those tight military trousers he wears that he is more than.....”

Castiel was outside and running whilst she was still speaking. Seriously, this was his life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In English it was common some way into the twentieth century to apply a diareses (say 'die-heiresses'; two dots over a letter) to the second of two of the same vowels where their sounds did not blend, e.g. coöperation, reëlection, but cooper, reeling.


	12. A Kiss Is Still A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12\. A misunderstanding over as to which Miss Steele Dean is engaged to results in some nuzzling in the stables going that step further into a certain alpha kissing a certain omega. Dean does not subsequently run away to the capital as a result; he just has several important items of business that need to be urgently transacted (yes he does!). In his distraction, he again fails to spot that his red-headed friend may be keeping something from him....

A week had passed, one of heavy summer showers interspersed with hot sunny spells. Mr. Dean Ferrers glared skywards as he rode over to Barton Park, knowing that this unreliable weather would reduce the harvest this year. The valley was fortunate to have Sir Robert in this aspect; when the same thing had happened two years back it had been his intervention that had saved many from going hungry.

His aunt's annoyance at that fact had also been somewhat pleasurable, especially as his friend's charity had made the London newspapers.

The road between Barton Park and the town curved slightly round the house grounds to enter from the south-west. There was a small lodge there and Dean knew the new gatekeeper there, an amiable young beta named Thaddeus Corey who had been given the job following a recommendation by Mrs. Ferrers, who lived three doors down from his family in Exeter. Sir Robert was open-minded about the general public and generally had the main gates left unlocked, if only because everyone in the area knew that he, his mate and his mate's stepmother were all highly proficient in the use of guns. Dean was, it may be said, a little surprised to pass the gatehouse and see Thaddeus half-asleep on a bench in his garden. The beta must have heard his horse approach, because he scrambled to his feet looking confused and dazed.

It was at that point that Mrs. Shepherd emerged from the cottage, looking like the cat that had got the cream. Dean grinned and spurred Impala to walk on. Lord, but that woman was insatiable!

+~+~+

Dean preferred as a matter of course to see his beloved Impala safely installed in the stables, rather than handing her over to a servant. The place seemed oddly deserted, so he led her into a stall and fed her the obligatory carrot before turning to leave. 

Then he froze. Someone had just come out of another stall further down. It was Mr. Castiel Dashwood, looking decidedly flushed.

“I am helping out for the day”, he said. “Gabriel was being himself, and I wanted some peace and.... oof!”

The exclamation was because, once again, Dean was buried in the man's neck, drinking in that glorious scent. Somewhere at the back of his mind a voice was shouting as to how wrong this was, but he ignored it. There may or may not have been one or more happy whimpers that did not come from the omega.

“Mr. Ferrers..... Dean!”

The alpha drew back with an effort, and stared at the omega through a haze of lust and want.

“Want you so bad”, he growled. “Want to take you right here and now, Cas.”

“On Sir Robert's lands?” Castiel said practically. “Is that wise?”

The dryness of his tone got through to the taller man rather better than any screaming or shouting may have done (although what little remained of the alpha's brain noted the absence of both those as a Good Thing), and Dean managed to get to a position where he was holding the omega at arms' length. The alpha was panting as if he had run a marathon, but Castiel remained as unperturbed as ever.

“I cannot”, Dean groaned. “I want to, but I cannot.”

“I understand”, Castiel said heavily. “Miss Steele, I suppose?”

Dean stared at him in shock.

“You.... you know?” he asked, almost forgetting to breathe in his horror. “Who the hell told you?”

“It was fairly obvious”, Castiel said. “Although I find it curious that there is no engagement ring on your finger, I am sure that you have your reasons.”

“My aunt”, Dean said heavily. “She would disinherit me if she knew.”

“But she is old, and so may not be a problem for much longer”, Castiel said coolly, and Dean did not like the way the omega's face had become shuttered. “Practical.”

“I gave my word”, Dean said sourly. “That binds me tighter than any ring on my finger. Charlie understands that.”

Castiel looked confused.

“Who is Charlie?” he asked.

“Charlene, Miss Steele”, Dean said. “Girl with red hair; we saw you in town the other day, and I think you saw us.”

“Oh”, Cas said. “And you are engaged to her.”

Dean laughed out loud.

“Uh, no, for so many reasons!” he chuckled. “Definitely not.....”

Belatedly, it dawned on him. He made a mental note to ask God some day why he did things like this to one Dean Ferrers. And how much nicer Dean's personal heaven would have to be to make up for them all.

“You thought that I was engaged to Charlie?” he asked.

“You said that you were”, Castiel said reasonably.

“I said I was bound to Miss Steele”, Dean protested. “Charlie's elder sister Ruby, who is up in Surrey. I and Charlie.... well, just no. I promised Ruby that I would marry her one day, and I.... I....”

He stuttered to a halt. Castiel's eyes somehow seemed even bluer when he was surprised, and Dean felt himself falling, falling.....

Their lips touched, and Dean was lost.

+~+~+

Even if Sir Robert had somehow missed Dean's debauched appearance and his very obviously omega-scented body (he was sure Castiel had rubbed against him at some point, not just the other way round), there was no way his omega mate would. There was also the fact that it had been three-quarters of an hour since his riding up the approach road.

“Well, well!” Crowley beamed. “I had thought being confined to the house would be boring, but it is amazing what one sees out of the front window these days!”

“Crowley!” his husband said warningly. “Do not tease the poor boy.”

Dean stared hard at the floor, wondering if he could stare a hole that he could disappear through. Probably not.

“I had word from Brandon this morning”, Sir Robert said. “All went well; he reached the capital full twelve hours before that rat Willoughby, and my former colleagues in the government were more than prepared.” The nobleman smiled slightly before adding, “he also asks that we not be too harsh on a certain gullible omega in the neighbourhood.”

“Yes, someone should let that certain gullible omega's brother know about that”, Crowley grinned. “Any volunteers? Ferrers?”

Dean scowled. Sir Robert shook his head at his mate.

“It is a pity it happened when it did”, Dean said, ignoring the insufferable omega, “for I am bound for the capital myself this week. My aunt has several items of business that she wishes to transact with her expensive lawyers up there, and I have one or two of my own things to sort out. As for Willoughby, he deserves a thorough whipping!” 

“When his French masters discover how he has let himself be used one day soon, he may get it from them”, Sir Robert grinned. “In the meantime, let us exploit his over-confidence to the benefit of England. You will miss your dear aunt having one of her fabled At Homes, though.”

“Oh woe is me”, Dean said insincerely. “But she will be able to boast as to how a handsome alpha is doing her bidding for her, sparing her from leaving the valley which, doubtless, would not long survive without her. And I shall pick her up some of that fudge she likes from that expensive shop in Piccadilly – what is it called again?”

“Fortnum and Mason”, Crowley said promptly. “I really like the fudge from there too. Especially the nut version!”

He batted his eyelashes hopefully at his husband, who sighed and nodded to Dean.

“I will buy two lots”, Dean grinned. “I will see you all soon.”

“Us and Mr. Castiel Dashwood”, Crowley muttered.

Dean's grin vanished. Just for that Crowley would be getting the smallest piece he could find.

+~+~+

“So?” Charlie asked.

They were having dinner in the tavern in which she was staying. It was not, Dean thought, really an appropriate place for a lady of fortune to be staying in, but then Charlie was no usual lady of fortune. Besides, the place did pie!

“So what?” he asked.

“You are hiding something”, she said in a low voice. “And it is not the sort of government thing that Bobby is into, because you have that sort of blush that says you have done something that you are a little bit ashamed of. Tell me, tell me.”

He blushed even more. He hated it that she could read him so well.

“I may have kissed Cas”, he muttered.

“You did what?” she shrieked. Several other diners looked across at them in surprise, but she ignored them. He was not surprised.

“Keep you voice down, Charlie!” he hissed. “It is not something that I wish to be broadcast to the whole town!”

“But that is amazing!” she insisted, thankfully in a lower tone. “You and he are True Mates. It is so romantic!”

“Except the part where I am pledged to marry your sister”, he pointed out.

“Oh yes”, she said, clearly deflated. “That.”

“Exactly”, he said. 

They ate for a while in silence.

“So was it good?” she asked eventually.

“Heaven”, he sighed. “I cannot describe it; it felt like coming home to one of my dear mama's warm apple pies, only better. But I am going to marry Miss Ruby Steele, and there is nothing to be done about it.”

Had he not been so depressed, he might have noticed the pointed silence that ensued from his usually voluble friend.

+~+~+

“You have that guilty look on your face again.”

Dean sighed, and turned to face his brother. He wondered if he should start carrying a sign above his head, so everyone could know what he had done.

“”What guilty look?” he deflected.

“The one that says you did something wrong”, Samuel said. “Like the time you and Charlie cut my hair.”

“You were being more of a pain that usual”, Dean said dismissively. “And that is saying something.”

“Mama did not let you have any pie until it all grew back again”, his brother smirked. 

Dean frowned. Yes, he well remembered those Dark Days. Come to think of it, he still owed his brother for that.

“Did you come round for a reason?” he asked testily. 

“I only live next door”, his brother snorted. “I wanted to ask if you were planning to call on Ruby on the way back.”

“You know what an ear she has for gossip”, Dean said. “If I went all the way to the capital and back again without going via Sutton, she would surely get to hear of it. And that in turn means I shall have to call on our dear cousin Lilith as well.”

“Ugh!” Sam said. “Rather you than me. So what did you do that was so wrong?”

“I may have told Charlie about your crush on Ruby”, Dean said with a grin. “Come to that, I could always tell her herself whilst I am up there.”

He was running as he finished, and behind a locked door before his brother was out of his chair. Ha!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweets in the nineteenth century were very expensive due to the high tax on sugar, and would remain so until the tax was abolished (1874).


	13. The (Semi-)Naked Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 13\. Castiel recovers from his first kiss (and his second, third, fourth &c.) with Dean, and meets with Charlie to discuss matters. Dean prepares to set out for London, but makes the mistake of calling on Sir Robert just before he goes - unfortunately on the very day that a certain blue-eyed omega is helping give the two Middleton boys swimming lessons. Castiel in a tight-fitting swimsuit is only ever going to end one way. Meanwhile Balthazar Willoughby's treachery is relayed to Gabriel rather more directly than anyone had expected, and the latter subsequently exhibits a rather strange reaction.

Upon reflection, Mr. Castiel Dashwood was unsure as to exactly how he got home that day. He was, without doubt, never more grateful to find that his family had decided to walk down to the town, and that he had the house to himself. 

Dean had kissed him! Dean, who was engaged to Miss Steele – not the Miss Steele Castiel had thought, but not the point here – Dean, engaged anyway, had kissed and all but claimed him (the 'all but' was important, he reminded himself sternly). And Castiel, who was stronger than most omegas, had not felt the least bit inclined to fight him off. He groaned at both his own ineffectualness and the alpha's..... well, being an alpha. What right did he have to do that with his gorgeous green eyes, impossibly bowed legs, rock-hard muscles and rock-hard.....?

He found himself breathing a little faster for some reason, and tried to re-focus.

It had been improper enough for Dean to bury himself in the omega's neck every time they met, but... well, that had been kind of tolerably pleasant. And as Castiel had learnt more about the alpha, he had come to realize that the beautiful body was more than matched by a kind and generous nature even if, as one Barton matron had remarked sniffily, Dean 'looked like a model, and thought like a model'. And no omega would be able to resist enjoying having power over an alpha, even if it was one to whom they could never be mated.

Castiel wondered about this Miss Ruby Steele, to whom Dean was engaged. He hoped that she was a good person, but some instinct inside him suggested that she might not be. He might approach her sister about her.

It was Castiel's good fortune that when the rest of the family returned, none of them noticed his distraction. His mother had been delighted to acquire some juicy gossip about the vicar's daughter, whom she disliked intently, and as a result had purchased a book for Samandriel and some sweets for Gabriel, which in turn kept the younger Dashwoods busy. Castiel stayed in his room and read, and definitely did not think of an alpha with.....

Well, he did not think on it much.

+~+~+

Nineteenth-century social norms often annoyed Castiel, rarely more in the idea that omegas should not have paid employment. He sometimes helped out in the small restaurant in town, which was owned by the Widow Harvelle; he knew that this incited comment amongst some in society, but frankly he did not care.

Ellen Harvelle also owned and ran the tavern next door, the restaurant usually being managed by her daughter Joanna, a spirited young girl whom, everyone knew, had a knife collection that she was quite prepared to 'demonstrate' on the slower alphas in the neighbourhood. Castiel got on with both ladies well, and was prepared to work in the back or out the front as required. Fortunately they chose the very next day to request his services, and he was more than glad to get away from his family and avoid any discussions on alphas and other matters.

He should have known that his luck would not hold. They were just closing up after dinner when they had a late customer. It was Miss Charlene Steele. She ordered tea and a slice of cake and sat down. Castiel groaned inwardly; she was obviously here to see him. Checking with Joanna that it was all right, he donned his apron and went to sit with her. She eyed him curiously.

“So you are the omega that has Dean all hot and bothered”, she said. Castiel blushed.

“It is just a chemical reaction”, he said defensively. “Nothing can come of it. He is, I hear, engaged in all but name.”

“To my dear sister”, she said, her lip curling in disdain. “Ruby set her cap at him when Father was Dean's tutor for a while, and he promised to marry her one day. A foolish act, but he is a man of his word, more is the pity.”

“I thought, seeing the two of you together... you know”, Castiel said, blushing. Charlie laughed.

“My interests are more of the female persuasion”, she grinned. Then her face turned serious. “I believe that Dean will call in on my sister on his way back from London. The town of Sutton is only a few miles out of his way.”

“He will marry her”, Castiel said glumly. 

He missed the red-head's slight smile.

“Few things are guaranteed in this world”, she said. “Except, of course, death and taxes!”

+~+~+

Castiel had meant to break the news of Lieutenant Willoughby's treachery to Gabriel gently. He had meant to. Unfortunately things did not turn out quite as he had planned.

“Laird Crowley was quite short with me today”, Gabriel said as he came back from a walk that morning. “I only offered to take any letters into town, and he said that there were none and would be none for a long time, as far as I was concerned. And I have not heard from Balthy for several days now, ever since he said I should not come to the camp because people were beginning to talk.”

Castiel winced. 

“He is in London, I believe”, he said casually.

“Nonsense!” Gabriel laughed. “He would not go all the way to the capital without telling me first. I know my brave solider.”

“Not that well”, Castiel muttered.

“What?”

The elder Dashwood sighed.

“Gabriel, he was using you to get at Sir Robert's communications with his friends in London”, he said. 

“Oh you are so wrong!” his brother snorted. “Why, Balthy told me that he had reason to think that Mrs. Shepherd's last letter was to the French ambassador, and that she was betraying our country. He is such a patriot, my beautiful beta.”

Castiel suddenly lost patience.

“Gabriel”, he snapped, “the only people who have been doing any betraying are Lieutenant Willoughby and, however inadvertently, your good self. That is why he has gone to London – something important in that last letter that you gave him – which he will sell to his Parisian masters. He had betrayed you and he has betrayed our country.”

He regretted his outburst at once. His brother's lip quivered in shock.

“Be... betrayed?” he said, looking shocked.

“He used you”, Castiel said as gently as he could. “As you yourself told us, he is part-French. He is working for Paris, and you, Gabriel, helped him. However unknowingly.”

He felt sorry for his brother, but he also felt that perhaps the flippant Gabriel needed a shock like this to help him to grow up. So when the younger Dashwood fled to his room Castiel let him be, and only went to make sure that Samandriel did not disturb him.

+~+~+

“The news from London continues well”, Sir Robert told Castiel a few days later. “Brandon is headed back now, and Willoughby was handsomely paid by the French embassy for his 'work'.”

“I am sure that the women and omegas of London Town will make sure that the fool and his money are soon parted!” Crowley muttered from the window. Castiel smiled.

“Gabriel is devastated”, he said sadly. “I think he is torn between unhappiness at Willoughby's betrayal and trying to convince himself that it is all a horrible misunderstanding.”

“He is fortunate that he is not the one being prosecuted for treason”, Sir Robert said reasonably. “Fortunately the authorities will want to give the lieutenant a long leash to see where else he leads them, and going after your brother might alert him to their being on to him. That Willoughby can be a persuasive bastard, and I am sure he would be able to talk your brother into believing that it had all been a misunderstanding, given the opportunity.”

“I am glad our own children were too young to draw the rat's attention”, Crowley said. “Though they are growing up far too fast.”

“Everything changes”, Sir Robert sighed. “Which reminds me, Crowley, what happened to that fellow colonel friend of Brandon's who was supposed to be turning up here? Bartholomew, if I remember the name. It was today he was due, was it not?”

The omega grinned.

“Apparently he ran into my step-mother first”, he said.

Sir Robert sighed heavily and shook his head. He moved to wrap his arms around his mate, who purred in satisfaction. Castiel smiled at them both.

+~+~+

The summer weather had continued changeable, and twice Castiel had had to seek shelter when caught out by a sudden downpour. On the third occasion he was not so lucky, and found himself nearly a mile away from the cottage in a deluge that could have inspired a burst of ark-building. Fortunately it had barely started when a gig pulled up next to him, and he recognized Colonel Lucifer Brandon smiling down at him. Deciding that propriety came a distant second to potential pneumonia, he scrambled in.

“I am on my way to see Sir Robert”, the colonel said, “to bring him more news of happenings in the capital. I trust nothing exciting had happened in my absence?”

Castiel smiled.

“Only that Dame Agatha was more than a little put out at her great-nephew decamping to the capital and leaving her only a short note”, he said. “She made it clear to everyone in the town that She Expected Better! I presume he must have written to her from London at some point, as she was reportedly less annoyed yesterday.”

It was only a short ride to the cottage, and Castiel thanked the colonel before racing inside to avoid getting even wetter. He came through the door so quickly that he bowled over Gabriel, who was just inside.

“The colonel gave you a lift again?” he asked querulously.

“Yes”, Castiel smiled mischievously. “He is quite generous, for all that he is so old.” A small imp of mischief prompted him to add, “and very handsome.”

He was sure that that was a hiss he heard as he made his way to his room to get out of his wet clothes. Well well.

+~+~+

The previous week Sir Robert had asked Castiel if he would not mind acting as a spare life-guard when his two boys, Robert and Stephen, took swimming lessons in the lake at the back of the house. The swimming teacher was fully trained, but Castiel could understand the nobleman's anxiety. Having only two heirs, especially in these days of still far too high child mortality, was apt to make any man nervous.

The omega was able to borrow a swimming costume from Mrs. Shepherd (he was so not going to ask!), and also a thin gown so he could stand by and be prepared to plunge into the waters should any problems arise. He watched the lesson carefully; both boys were clearly enjoying it, and he wanted to be ready should he be needed. 

The lesson was just finished when Castiel heard the sound of voices approaching, and recognized the first as the master of the house.

“Crowley wishes to go to the beach later this summer”, Sir Robert said. “So I thought it a good idea for the boys to at least be able to manage a few strokes, just in case.”

The voice that answered made the omega's blood run cold, despite the warm day. It was that of a very familiar (in both senses) alpha.

“A most wise precaution”, he answered. “One can never be too..... oh!”

The two men came out of the small boathouse onto the little pier, and Castiel scrambled to his feet to greet them. This was a meeting between two friends, nothing else, and would be conducted with the decorum appropriate to......

The alpha colliding with him nearly knocked him clean into the water, and once again Castiel felt that familiar short blond hair beneath his fingertips. He sighed.

“Well, the, uh, lesson seems to have concluded”, Sir Robert said amiably. “I, uh, shall be off back to the house. I shall see you later, Dean.”

“Mphm!” Whatever the alpha's answer had been was buried in the omega's neck. Castiel patted him gently, and with a visible effort Dean drew back.

“I have to go to London”, he muttered, clearly ashamed of his actions yet showing no inclination to end them. “I shall not be away long. Cas.....”

“I know”, the omega said gently. “I shall still be here when you get back.”

“Mphm!”


	14. Pretences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14\. Mr. Dean Ferrers is definitely not pining for a blue-eyed omega with sex-hair whilst he is away in London Town. He is not! His stay in the capital is uneventful, but that cannot be said of his journey back, as we (unfortunately) meet his 'betrothed', Miss Ruby Steele. And Dean also has to stop in and see his ghastly cousin Lilith as well. Rarely is he so glad to get back to Devonshire and..... um, the people he knows. Yes, the people. No-one specific.  
> Shut up.

Mr. Dean Ferrers had not spent the whole journey to London fretting about his having kissed Mr. Castiel Dashwood. He did not. There were at least two times when he had thought about the weather instead. And the sandwich he had had at a tavern in Wincanton had also distracted him for at least a few seconds.

What had he been thinking about, kissing that poor omega? Not that the man had been unwilling, but the way his muscled body had all but melted into that of the alpha – it was so blatantly unfair that Dean could not have him for his own! It would be oh so good to live the life of a country gentleman, knowing that he would come home to his Cas with the wrecked hair, his Cas with the ice-blue eyes, his Cas with a belly round with Dean's pups......

He realized that he was hyperventilating, and moaned aloud, to the surprise of a cow in the nearby field. It looked at him disapprovingly. Typical!

Lord, just when would he stop thinking with his lower brain? But the omega had smelt so good, and something about him always made Dean's willpower crumble to dust. Life was so unfair, matching him with someone so perfect and then preventing him from having him. As a mate, Dean hastily added, as his upper brain immediately kicked into all the possible ways he could have Castiel, including some that he thought were physically impossible.

Probably.

It was a long, 'hard' journey. He was glad that he had recently purchased a softer saddle.

+~+~+

It was doubly annoying that, because Ruby would somehow hear of his being in the capital, Dean felt compelled to visit her on his way back. And because his cousin's house lay in almost exactly the same direction (and Lilith had an nose for gossip that would have made her an excellent spy), he would then have to call in at Norland. His journey back was going to be a lot less pleasant than the one up, although at least he could spend it thinking of....

No. Bad alpha!

Lady Amara had insisted on purchasing a membership for both Ferrers alphas at one of the most exclusive clubs in the capital - “every true gentleman belongs to at least one Mayfair club, nephew” - so he opted to go there rather than avail himself of Sir Robert's small house. He planned to spend three days nights in the capital, transacting his and his aunt's business on the first day and allowing the second for experiencing the delights of the capital, such as they were. If he set out early enough on his way back, he could reach Sutton around lunch-time and keep his visit to his 'fiancée' as short as possible.

+~+~+

Dean really should have known. Having thought that his life could not get much more complicated, the Good Lord (who seemingly had way too much time on his hands) had once more proceeded to prove him wrong. 

The alpha stared in astonishment at the scene before him, namely Miss Ruby Steele with a baby in her arms. A baby which, apparently, was hers.

“It was only one time”, she said defensively. “Matthew was being posted overseas, and we thought.....”

She stopped. Dean could see the evidence of exactly what she had thought.

“Did Charlie know?” he blurted out.

“I swore her to secrecy”, Ruby said crossly. “She has more than enough demons in her own closet, as I am sure you know.”

Dean shuddered at her callousness. She smirked at his obvious discomfort.

“Matthew went over to serve with Wellesley in the Peninsular War”, she said. “He left me a parting gift before he thoughtlessly went and got himself killed, silly boy. Benjamin here.”

Lord, what had he seen in this woman? 

“What about his family?” he asked.

“They do not know”, she said smugly. “Just as well; his father is a general and would probably have a fit if he knew what his sweet little boy had done. Matthew was meant to serve his time and then retire to have a family, but you know what they say about the best-laid plans....”

She stopped, and sniffed. Too late, Dean realized that his bad day was about to get a whole lot worse.

“You have met someone”, she said accusingly. “It must be an omega. Your scent has changed.”

“At least I only greeted the man”, Dean said, trying not to blush at the half-truth. “I was not unfaithful, unlike someone I could mention.”

“Whatever”, she yawned. “Anyway, I am going to London this September for the Prince of Wales' Grand Ball. Even though the man is a grand ball himself these days, the great tub of lard. And you will never guess who has invited me to stay with them?”

Dean felt a horrible sense of foreboding. This was rapidly turning into one of his worst days ever.

“Who?” he asked.

“Your dear cousin Lilith and her lump of a husband”, she grinned. “I wonder just who I might meet there?”

And something in Dean snapped. He stepped forward angrily, clearly surprising her.

“I am still honour bound to marry you one day, despite your slattern ways”, he said coldly. “But understand this, Ruby. Our marriage, should it ever come about, will be a misfortune to us both if you insist on parading yourself around like the original good time had by all. Should you choose not to play the goodwife, then I will have no compunction about seeking my own sexual pleasures elsewhere, and quite publicly. Everyone will quickly see that our marriage is a sham, and your high societal aspirations will be ruined. I may even take....”

He stopped himself just in time, glared at her and the boy, then turned and walked quickly from the room.

+~+~+

Dean had not made any definite plans for where he would stay after seeing his fiancée, but after their encounter he wanted to get as far away from her as he could in what remained of the day. The sun had set by the time he rode into the town of Guildford, and found stabling for Impala and a bed for himself at one of the coaching inns there. He did not sleep well.

The following day he headed down the road towards Portsmouth, turning off after some miles to cut across country to Rotherbury and Norland. He had not thought about it until it he got nearer, but that route would take him past the old lodge, where he had first seen Cas, and had....

He glanced apologetically heavenwards. He was such a bad alpha!

He took the precaution of stopping at the Lodge to apply some cologne, hoping that it would prevent his ghastly cousin from detecting any change in his scent. He had brought some sandwiches from the inn last night which he had devoured on the way down, and had planned things so that he would reach her house just after mid-day and plead that he had to leave and be on his way after a short visit. She would of course have put him up for the night if he had asked, but he did not want to spend any longer in her presence than he had to. 

As it turned out, his precautions were unnecessary, as his cousin and her husband were absent. They had gone to visit friends at Bosham, and would not be back for several days. This therefore enabled Dean to visit the cook and 'liberate' a number of pastries, none of which were destined to see the next sunrise. He supposed that he could have swung out to the small port and seen Lilith – it was only a few miles out of his way - but calling on her whilst she was calling on friends would have been quite rude, so he elected not to.

It was the improved sunny weather that was responsible for the smile on his face as he rode away. Nothing else.

+~+~+

Dean really hoped that the Good Lord would smile upon him as the summer weather was wont to do just now, and that some other idiot would make a better offer for Ruby, who now knew that married life with him might be rather less than she had hoped. Unfortunately he well knew that there were all too many such sham marriages in London society, so many that even the garrulous London papers found it hard to keep up with who was having whose husband, wife or mate. And whilst such a thing did not make one an instant social pariah, it most definitely excluded the people involved from the upper echelons of society, to which he knew Ruby so nakedly aspired. She might well decide Dean was not worth it after all. He could but hope.

Then he thought of his aunt's twenty thousand, and groaned. Nothing would deter her from that!

The journey back was a pleasant one, as he did not hurry but stuck mostly to the coastal roads and paths, taking the opportunity to see some places he had never visited before. It was therefore quite some days later when he finally arrived back in the valley, although he knew that Charlie, 'who did not gossip' (ahem!), would soon fill him in on anything that had happened in his absence.

He met Colonel Brandon in town, and invited him to step inside for a drink.

“I thought you might be back”, he smiled, “so I decided to come over on the off chance.”

“Did anything of interest happen whilst I was away?” Dean asked, putting aside his stick.

“Yes”, the colonel said. “Your aunt had her At Home, and that ghastly Lord Zachariah was there.”

Dean winced. Lord Zachariah Milton was a huge bear of a beta, one of the two county members of parliament for Devonshire. An oily, unpleasant man, who in the words of Laird Crowley brought great gladness to any room when he quitted it.

“He is single again, after his latest wife left him”, the colonel said. “I do not recall whether she was number four or number five. And he brought his two sons with him. The eldest, Edgar; he is proving proved to be the apple that has not fallen very far from a bad tree. Although there was one rather interesting moment when the young man propositioned our Mr. Castiel Dashwood.”

Dean felt suddenly short of breath, and fought down an instinctive growl. Even though the colonel's face did not change, Dean knew he was being closely observed.

“Fortunately Mr. Dashwood threw him up against the doorpost”, the colonel said, “and that was an end to that. I have never seen an omega hand it to a beta like that before.”

“Lord Zachariah is an odious man”, Dean managed, “and I am not surprised any son of his turned out like that.”

“His other son was rather better behaved”, the colonel said with a smile. “An alpha, just presented; his name is Ezekiel. Rowena found him quite.... fascinating.”

Dean shook his head. The woman was impossible!

+~+~+  
Note: 'Presented' in this story refers not to gender/type – this was known at birth – but to the formal entry of someone into 'society'. It was also known as 'coming out', and always happened at some social occasion like a ball or dance, being announced in the local newspapers. Technically, no-one could enter into a formal relationship until this had happened. Technically....


	15. Disengage, Engage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15\. Castiel Dashwood is more than a little perturbed to find himself the talk of the town. His brother Gabriel is distraught by an epistolary rejection from the absent Balthazar Willoughby, and further pained by his mother's planning to use the family's invitation to a Grand Ball in London to effect his formal presentation. And someone announces their formal engagement.

In the short time that he had known her, Castiel had grown to quite like Miss Charlene Steele. True, she oftentimes lived in a world of her own – the 'Tales of Moondor' she had written were romantic waffle of the first order (although he did rather like the character of the brave handmaiden Dana of Kendal, the handsome, green-eyed and bow-legged servant to Queen Celeste). The red-head was outspoken and brash, but good-hearted. 

“And here he comes now!” she grinned, far too loud as usual. Fortunately the restaurant was about to close, so there were no customers to be rendered deaf by her bellow. “The Omega Muscle-Man!”

Castiel winced. He had hoped that the small size of the gathering at Lady Amara's, where he had made quite clear to Doctor Gaines that his attentions were unwelcome, would have kept the matter quiet. Unfortunately his mother had been there, and as Charlie had so rightly said, that was akin to having the town crier announcing what had happened to everyone.

“You did not tell me how you, an omega, got an invitation to one of Her Ladyship's fabled At Homes”, Charlie pressed. Castiel sighed.

“She came into the library the other week”, he said, “and was intrigued by the new system we have for classifying books. When I started there they were done the old way, just when the library purchased or received them, but I suggested grouping them by type and subject. She thought it a great idea.” He smiled before adding mischievously, “although her face fell when she was told that an omega had thought of it.”

“Some omegas getting above themselves”, Charlie tutted in mock disapproval. “Shameful in this day and age!”

“So she asked if I might come out to Darkside and do the same for her library there”, Castiel explained. “And she said that as she was having her At Home, I could do an initial survey of the library then attend it afterwards. I must say that I was surprised.”

“And that was where you met the handsy Doctor Gaines”, she said. He nodded.

“His father Zachariah is a most unpleasant man”, he said, shuddering slightly. “He disapproved of his son's actions, although he was more concerned that his other son, Ezekiel, left with Mrs. Shepherd. I believe the latter is considering education as a career.”

“I bet our Rowena taught him a thing or two!” she leered. He rolled his eyes at her.

“Talking of education”, he said, “you mentioned that your father is a tutor. You had no wishes to follow him into education?”

She grinned, and tossed her red hair back. Castiel waved goodbye to Jo and they stepped outside.

“I have my dear sister to thank for that”, she said. “Had she been less... well, herself when Great-Aunt Antonia invited her over, she would have been eight thousand richer. Instead I am four thousand to the good, and my younger sisters have two each, plus the thousand we had each anyway.”

“And she got nothing?” Castiel asked, surprised.

“Great-Aunt Antonia left her a book on manners and decorum!” Charlie chuckled. “And they say the older generation lacks subtlety!”

“Of course, if you married then that would all become your husband's money”, Castiel said with a sly grin. She laughed.

“So not going to happen”, she smiled. “That is about as likely as.....”

She stopped, her attention caught by something over the omega's shoulder. Turning, Castiel saw that a carriage had pulled up opposite the tavern in the high street and the driver had gone inside. A lady had got out onto the pavement and was looking somewhat lost. Even at this distance Castiel could see that she was quite attractive.

“Who on earth is that?” Charlie asked, her voice awestruck. 

“I would wager that that is the famous Miss Dorothy Gale.”

“Who? What? How do you know?” 

Her voice had gone suddenly rather high. Castiel smiled.

“That is the Darkside carriage”, he said, “and I know she sent for the girl recently, as she is a relative whose family have passed on. I believe that Lady Amara is her godmother.”

Charlie's eyes widened.

“She is pretty”, she muttered. “I may forgive Dean after all.”

“For what?” Castiel asked, confused.

“He told Lady Amara that I would be a better person to show that girl around town that he as an un-mated alpha”, she said. “Do you know anything more about her? I did not ask Dean at the time.”

“She is not very rich”, Castiel said. “I heard that her mother was Scottish, and on the woman's death had planned to leave the girl's upbringing to some English cousin, who unfortunately died whilst arrangements were being put into place. The cousin's brother wrote to Lady Amara to inform her of what had happened, and she offered to take the girl in.”

“That does not sound like our Lady Amara”, Charlie said suspiciously, “even if she is the girl's godmother.”

“The servants at Darkside say that for all heir many failings, she is red hot on familial obligations”, Castiel smiled. “And if it saves Miss Gale from something worse, or even having to go to the Americas, then so much the better.”

“She really is very pretty”, Charlie said again.

“You might want to wipe away the drool”, Castiel said, a little cattily. “Yes, she is pretty. Although those bright red shoes are somewhat out of place in Barton Ferrers.”

His friend was lost in her admiration of the newcomer. Castiel smiled.

+~+~+

The omega's good mood lasted all the way home, where he received news that brought it to a sudden stop.

“We are all going to London!” his mother trilled. “My step-son has secured tickets for the Grand Ball, and we are all invited.”

Ugh, Castiel thought. He hated large social events.

“I would wager Lady Lilith was not happy about that”, Samandriel grinned. Their mother swatted at him but missed.

“The journey will be insufferably long”, Castiel pointed out. He really did not want to go, especially as a certain alpha had just arrived back in the neighbourhood.

“But it would be an excellent chance to present Gabriel to society”, his mother said, somehow missing her eldest son's wince. “You had best go and tell him, Castiel. Oh, and we are to have company at Dashwood House in the capital. It will be quite cramped up there.”

“Who is it?” Samandriel asked.

“Miss Ruby Steele, Miss Charlene's sister, is invited”, she beamed.

And the day just gets better, Castiel thought acidly. He went to find Gabriel.

+~+~+

Castiel was still concerned about his younger brother, who since the departure of Lieutenant Willoughby had definitely not been himself (although Samandriel had quipped that any change was an improvement, and Castiel had been unable to disagree). The middle Dashwood seemed disinterested in life in general, and had even turned down a bag of sweets the other day. That had made his elder sibling really worry.

Gabriel was in his room reading a letter, and did not hear his brother enter. When Castiel coughed to announce his presence, he blushed deeply.

“Is that our great invitation?” Castiel asked.

His brother hesitated. 

“It is from Willoughby”, he said quietly. “I took a letter to his great-aunt's house and they said they would forward it on to him. He has written back; fortunately I met the postman on his way here.”

Castiel was immediately anxious.

“What does he say?” he asked gently. 

“He says”, Gabriel began, a bitter note entering his voice, “that he is sorry if his 'polite attentions' towards me led me in any way to assume that they meant more. He says that whilst he will always value my friendship – friendship! - that because of the familial situation, there could never be anything more between us.”

In other words, you are not worth enough money, Castiel thought acidly. He did not say it, although he was sorely tempted.

“And he has returned my lock of hair”, Gabriel said miserably. “He took me for a fool, Cassie.”

For once Castiel did not object to the hated nickname. 

“He appears to have so done”, he conceded.

“I suppose that everyone has been laughing at me behind my back”, Gabriel said mournfully. “Did you know his true character?”

“I suspected.”

“Why did you not tell me?” the younger omega asked.

“Would you have believed me if I had?” Castiel asked simply.

“Of course I would have!”

Castiel just looked at him. Gabriel sighed.

“And now mama wants to present me in London!” he sighed. “Knowing my luck, Willoughby will be there to see the whole farce!”

Castiel could empathize. His own presentation, last year, had been a subdued affair as his father had been ill with the disease which would soon after claim his life, and the young omega had still hated it. Some of the alphas seemed to consider it a competition as to who could 'deflower' an omega in the shortest possible time after presentation. Still, Castiel had left Mr. Metatron Jones with a painful reminder of what constituted socially acceptable behaviour. Delivered low down in the mazurka.

“I was a fool”, Gabriel said sadly. 

“You were taken in by an expert”, Castiel said. “There are too many Balthazar Willoughbys in the world. We can but hope that he is sent to Portugal very soon.” 

+~+~+

A few days later, Mrs. Simpkins at the sweet shop asked if Gabriel could come and help out, as her regular girl was off sick. Gabriel did not want to go, but Castiel eventually persuaded him. 

They were almost at the shop when they saw Sir Robert's carriage parked outside the smithy. Rufus Turner was working on it, as grouchy as ever, but his son Ross smiled and came over to them. 

“Father has a rush job on this”, he said. “Mrs. Shepherd wants it so she can go down to Exeter and see the bishop.”

“I suppose that would be over Father Murphy”, Castiel said. One of the more evangelical members of the All Angels flock had taken against the priest's sermon the other week, and had reported him to his superior. “I do hope the bishop does not choose to remove him.”

“Not now that Mrs. Shepherd is involved!” Ross grinned. “I'd wager a pint that she can, you know, 'persuade' him.”

Both omegas chuckled and went on their way to the shop.

“We have not seen your handsome lieutenant around of late”, Mrs. Simpkins twittered as they entered. “I thought that he might be back by now.”

Gabriel winced.

“I believe that he was compelled to go to London on an urgent matter of business”, Castiel said. “Nothing he could discuss with any of us, of course, except that he did say he expected to be there for some considerable time.”

“Of course”, the shop-owner said. “That would have been his engagement.”

Both omegas looked at her in shock.

“Engagement?” Castiel said at last. 

“Yes”, she said. “It is in the paper today. Dear Dame Agatha is quite delighted that her great-nephew felt compelled to do the honourable thing and pledge himself to Miss Genevieve Grey, on the anniversary of their first meeting. So romantic that he has finally committed himself to her.” She paused before adding cattily, “and her ten thousand.”

“I dare say we will get a letter from him shortly”, Castiel rallied. “I shall be off, Gabe. Try not to eat all the profits.”

He ignored his brother's huff as he left the shop, thinking about what he would like to do to a certain army lieutenant.

+~+~+  
Note: A mazurka is a Polish folk-dance, so Castiel was not being cryptic here. Although as it happened.....


	16. K.I.S.S.I.N.G.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 16\. The town recluse dresses up for once, although the reason is not hard to guess for the local gossips. Samuel Ferrers is reminded the hard way that his mother can move fast when irritated. His brother encounters Mr. Castiel Dashwood at Lady Amara's house, and is for once able to refrain from nuzzling him – well, at least until they are out of the house. Unfortunately they are seen......

It was their step-father's birthday, so Dean and Sam were driving down to Exeter for a celebration dinner at a nice restaurant in the town. It also gave Sam a chance to use his new barouche; not that he was a show-off or.... all right, he was.

“It is depressing that I shall have to go back to London again so soon”, Dean said, smiling in relief as he saw that there was pie on the menu. “And perhaps this time I shall get to see our dear cousin Lilith.”

“Ugh!” Sam muttered. “She is definitely a case of absence making the heart grow You were lucky to miss her last time.”

“Sussex's gain is definitely not our loss”, Dean said. His mother shook her head at him.

“And we shall be seeing Ruby as well”, Sam said. “Into every life....”

Mary looked at her elder son far too shrewdly for his liking.

“I am surprised that Ruby Steele she has not found a man yet”, she said casually. “Especially with her financial situation.”

“I think Charlie will beat her up the aisle at this rate!” Sam scoffed.

Dean suspected that his mother was about the only other person who knew the truth about Miss Charlene Steele, and her slight smile as she turned away form her younger son only served to confirm that. He prodded dolefully at his bread roll. 

“Charlie will probably be going home to Surrey after the ball”, Sam said. “I wonder if the Prince of Wales really is as grossly fat as the papers say?”

Dean's step-father opened his mouth to most likely confirm that fact, but caught his wife's face and promptly shut it again.

“Do not speak disrespectfully of the Royal Family, son”, Mary said sharply. “Whatever we think of our royal family, one only has to look at that ghastly Napoleon to see how much worse it could be. He is eating up lands everywhere.”

“Whereas the Prince of Wales is only eating up... ow!”

Dean grinned. His brother would never learn that the distance of a table was no defence against an annoyed mama, who could wield a bread roll with deadly effect. 

“The campaign in the Netherlands is not going well”, Sam said, rubbing his ear. “I had hoped those Frogs would be too busy with Wellington in Spain, but it seems they are preventing us from making any real headway. Still, at least we have the Navy. Oh, and Aunt Amara wants to come to London too.”

“What?” 

Dean looked up in shock. Sam chuckled.

“Fortunately not with us”, she said. “She plans to present her new ward, Miss Gale, and sees the Grand Ball as the perfect opportunity. But she also wants to visit some relation who lives just outside Salisbury, so she will take her own carriage.”

“I could hardly see our aunt riding post”, Dean said stiffly. Sam laughed.

+~+~+

Rather unusually, Dean had not seen Charlie since his return. He finally ran into her at her tavern, and asked how she was doing.

“Awful”, his friend sighed. “That harridan will not let poor Dorothy out of her sight for a moment, at least until she has been formally presented. How can I show her round the area when she is not allowed to leave the grounds of Darkside?”

“Her ward”, Dean remembered. “You and she...?”

“More chance of me rowing all the way to the Americas!” she scoffed. “Castiel is there now.”

“What?” Dean asked, a little too loudly if her raised eyebrows were any indication. She smiled.

“You have it bad, too”, she said. “He is helping her re-arrange her library, so she can find things more easily.”

“And she actually accepted advice from an omega?” Dean asked incredulously. “Has Jesus been handing out loaves and fishes at All Saints, as well?”

Charlie chuckled.

“She visited the library in town and saw how well their system worked, and yes, at first she would not believe that an omega could do something like that. He has been working on it most days since.” 

“Brave man!” Dean shuddered. “Well, I suppose I had better call on her myself. Just to confirm that I too am headed to London.”

“And not because a certain omega is there!” she grinned, slapping her hand in mock reproof. “Perish the thought!”

He glared at her. It was damnably annoying when she was right like that.

+~+~+

Dean found his aunt in the library, where Castiel was explaining the idea of sectioning books by category to her. He greeted her and tried not to breathe in the heavenly omega scent that was so tantalizingly close.

(He should probably have been ashamed that this was probably the first time that he had been near the omega without being in the omega's arms, scenting him like some alpha from one of those awful romantic novels that Charlie definitely did not read. He could only hope that the heavy dose of cologne he had applied to his nostrils beforehand would hold out).

“Of course I am looking forward to the Grand Ball”, he lied. By the slight smile he caught on the omega's handsome face, he knew that the lie had been spotted. “To mix and mingle with the very cream of London society. And I understand that Miss Gale will be presented there?”

“Very right and proper”, his aunt said stiffly, looking at the re-arranged books with something that bordered dangerously on approval. “She may not have much to her name, but the connection with my noble family is Important.”

“As is her companion, of course”, Castiel added.

“Pardon?” his aunt said. Dean was impressed; she did indeed manage to look down her nose at the omega.

“I understand from the London papers that it is the latest way to judge ladies coming out into society”, Castiel explained. “Money, name and companion.”

“Surely she does not need a companion for a mere dance?” his aunt objected. Castiel whistled through his teeth.

“Well”, he said slowly, “my brother Gabriel is inordinately fond of the society pages, and insists on sharing everything he reads with the rest of us, despite our best efforts to stop him. If Miss Gale were the only lady of real Consequence who was not possessed of a companion – and of course her connection to you, Lady Amara, places that status far beyond question – well. People would.... Talk.”

Dean could hear the capital letter.

“I shall contact a London agency at once”, his aunt said. The omega shot a look at Dean and mouthed a very obvious word. Belatedly the alpha got it.

“Is that wise, aunt?” he asked. “I mean, agency people – if you did not get someone suitable, it would be too late to change or find a replacement. And a poor quality person at the dance – it might be disastrous! I am sure you know how those salacious London papers love their gossip. A sub-standard companion would be the talk of the city salons for weeks. Months, even.”

“But how am I to find a girl at such short notice?” his aunt demanded. “They do not grow on trees, you know!”

“I have a suggestion there”, Dean said, trying to look as if the thought had just crossed his mind. “Why not employ Miss Charlene Steele on a one-month contract, to see if she and Miss Gale are compatible? Miss Steele is worth five thousand herself, and her grandfather was ennobled by King George for services to the country. And she is more than capable of following your exact instructions as to which approaches to your ward are acceptable, and which are not.”

“Hmm”, his aunt said. “That is a most excellent idea. Dear nephew, I wonder if you might put the proposal to Miss Steele herself, and see if she is amenable. It would of course mean her spending a considerable amount of time with poor Miss Gale, but then we all have to make sacrifices.”

“I shall seek her out today and put your most excellent idea to her”, Dean said.

“Yes, I am glad that I thought of it.”

This time Dean definitely did not miss the omega's smile, which was incredibly cu.... rather pleasant.

+~+~+

The two of them walked as far as the town (Lady Amara did not like the idea of un-mated alphas and un-mated omegas together, but she liked the idea of an un-mated omega going around the countryside on their own even less), with Castiel riding Impala and Dean walking. They stopped in front of his house.

“I am sure that Charlie will be more than pleased with Lady Amara's 'great idea'”, Castiel said as he dismounted easily.

“Is that Mr. Osmundson?” Dean asked, as a smartly attired alpha walked down the other side of the road.

“Yes”, the omega answered.

“But he is..... well.... dressed!”

(It should be clarified at this point that Dean did not mean to infer Mr. Cain Osmundson was in the habit of parading around Barton Ferrers sans apparel. The man lived in a small cottage just outside the town and kept himself very much to himself. He was virtually self-sufficient, and his lifestyle meant that he normally looked decidedly down-at-heel. Now however, he looked like he was heading to church in his Sunday best).

Castiel's smile widened. The alpha looked at him.

“What do you know?” he asked. 

“Only that a certain lady who resides in her own quarters in Barton Park was seen coming out of the man's cottage”, Castiel said. “And I do not think she went in to buy half a dozen eggs!”

“Honestly, the woman is insatiable!” Dean grumbled. “All she thinks about is sex!”

“Yes, she is as bad as some alphas”, Castiel teased.

“Not all alphas”, Dean said defensively. “Some of us can control ourselves, you know.”

This was evidently when the Good Lord took the opportunity to make Dean look an even bigger fool than he had proved thus far, as his cologne chose that precise moment to wear off. The alpha's brain did send a command to shake the omega formally by the hand, bow and then part, but somehow, en route to his body, the order got changed ever so slightly such that he once again found himself buried in that glorious scent. He sighed happily and surrendered himself to the inevitable.

From the window of the house next door, his brother watched in surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dramatic drum-roll......


	17. Tell-Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17\. Those many occasions that Gabriel Dashwood has teased his younger brothers in the past come back to haunt him - in spades - when someone discovers that his brother has seen rather more of a certain colonel than might be thought appropriate. Castiel does not of course use this knowledge to grievously embarrass his brother.... oh come on! But more serious problems loom when Castiel discovers that his relationship with Dean, whatever it may be, is no longer a secret.

It was now less than a week before the Dashwoods would set out for London, and Castiel was worried. He had enjoyed his 'triumph' for Charlie – the girl had squealed with delight when he had told her what he and 'his huggy bear alpha' (her description) had managed to bring about – but he was still concerned over Gabriel. Besides, fretting over his younger brother meant he did not have to think about the polite way in which Dean had shaken his hand when they were about to part, then let out an almost inhuman sound and buried himself into the omega's neck. Again.

There may have been some head-patting, and he had a feeling that Dean had only been able to tear himself away because they were in a fairly busy area of the town. The heartbroken look he had given the omega – well, Castiel knew the man's true feelings, just as surely as he knew that he could never act on them. And the more he learnt about Dean, the more he found himself wishing that the two of them could, in some way, be together. Those bowed legs..... he had better offer up some extra prayers in church this Sunday for what he was thinking!

It was fortunate, perhaps, that he he had his brother's unusual behaviour to take his mind away from such matters. Because Gabriel was being far too quiet. It was different from the sort of sullen depression that had surrounded him since Lieutenant Willoughby's departure, and Castiel worried because it was so unlike him. Even if it was an improvement from Standard Gabriel.

Fortunately, elucidation arrived when he encountered Colonel Brandon out on a walk. The alpha asked if they might discuss 'a certain matter', so Castiel sat down on a tree-stump and waited expectantly.

“Has... Gabriel spoken to you at all?” the colonel asked. He sounded oddly anxious, Castiel thought.

“No”, the omega said, “though I have an idea that something happened to him when he went out for a walk last Thursday. He has been more silent than usual since then - not that anyone is complaining!”

“I would rather discuss this with you than your mother”, the alpha said, looking oddly nervous. “She might not take it too well.”

He stopped, and Castiel grew even more anxious.

“Take what?” he asked. To his surprise the colonel blushed.

“Your mother was kind enough to send over that military book she owns that I showed an interest in”, he said. “She sent Gabriel with it.”

That was his mother, Castiel thought resignedly. Ever the hopeful matchmaker. Though something in the colonel's manner told him that there was rather more to this.

“And?” he prompted. The soldier blushed even more.

“I had been expecting a visit from my brother Michael”, he said. “The one little Stephanie lives with up in Somersetshire; he had said he would call in on his way down to Exeter that day.”

“So?”

If the ex-soldier had gone any redder, Castiel might have had to call for medical assistance.

“So I answered the door stark naked!” he said quietly.

Castiel gulped. 

“Yes”, the soldier said heavily. “That was what your brother did, too. Then he fainted.”

“So that is why he has been mercifully quieter in recent days”, Castiel mused, trying not to think that such a shock would do the family prankster no harm at all. “Although I think part of it is that he is nervous at being presented at the Grand Ball.”

The colonel nodded.

“Well, it is good to hear that he is all right”, he said, blushing even more. “Send him my.... tell him I asked after after him, if you would.”

“I will so do”, Castiel promised.

The soldier bowed, and walked off. Castiel stared after him, thinking hard.

+~+~+

“I met Colonel Brandon whilst I was out today”, Castiel said casually. “He is looking quite well, I thought.”

The sharp look that he got from across the table before his brother managed to feign complete disinterest did not go unobserved. Castiel smiled inwardly.

“I, uh, took a book over to his house last week”, he muttered. Castiel allowed himself a grin.

“Yes”, he said, “he informed me of your visit. What sort of book was it, by the way? Pop-up?”

“Cassie!”

“'Show' and tell? Something 'hard' core? Or just the 'bare' and honest truth?”

Samandriel looked between the two curiously.

“Why are you blushing, Gabriel?” he asked.

“I am not!”

“It is a 'long' story”, Castiel smiled. “Very.... long.”

“Shut up! I hate you!”

“What is wrong?” Samandriel asked.

“Some things are best left, uh, 'hanging'”, Castiel grinned, before escaping to his room. He could hear Gabriel batting away their younger brother's questions as he left, and chuckled to himself.

+~+~+

It was the following day, and Castiel was annoyed. Gabriel had failed to do his allotted chores around the cottage, saying he had to go into the town and would be back later. Knowing that this meant his tasks would be done in a haphazard way if at all, Castiel did them himself, then went out for a walk.

It was a complete coincidence that his walk took him to Godson's Green, the tiny hamlet on the northern edge of Barton Ferrers where the road to Delaford executed two sharp turns for no apparent reason. And that he took a book with him. And that he sat there for a couple of hours, despite the day being cool and overcast. And that he had brought food.

Some hours later he was thinking he might have to return when he heard them. Two voices approaching down the road from Delaford, one deep and commanding, the other rather higher. He knew them both, and grinned, especially when the voices stopped and there was a sound that could be nothing other than kissing. It went on for some considerable time; the omega started another chapter whilst he was waiting.

Once the smooching had stopped, Castiel scrambled quietly across to the side-road that led to Godson's Farm, and waited. Sure enough, he heard the two men part after what this time was a mercifully short second kissing session, and walked casually down the road to come up behind one of them.

As always, his brother really did shriek loudly when surprised. He stared in shock at the sudden apparition before him.

“Where did you come from?” he demanded.

“Just out for a walk”, Castiel grinned. “Though unlike you and your 'short trip to town', I was unaccompanied.”

The deep blush was intensely satisfying.

“The colonel met me and offered to walk me home”, Gabriel said. Castiel immediately looked all around them both.

“Yet you parted just before you got into town”, he smirked, and his brother blushed even more. “Well, well. We can walk back to the cottage together and you can tell me how your day went.”

“Nothing happened”, Gabriel said defensively.

Castiel just stared at him.

“Shut up!”

The younger Dashwood stormed off in a huff. Castiel grinned, and followed him.

+~+~+

Two days before the family was due to leave for the capital, they were all invited to dinner up at the big house. 

“I am planning to host a county ball here in autumn, to mark my and Crowley's anniversary”, Sir Robert said to Mrs. Dashwood. “I know you were planning to have your son presented up in London, but I wondered if it might not be better to do it down here. There are several suitable bachelors in the area that I might invite.”

Castiel noted that one 'suitable bachelor' in particular, looking particularly fine in his regimental uniform, was currently engaging the middle Dashwood omega in conversation. A conversation that Gabriel seemed quite happy to continue. Both men looked up. 

“That sounds an excellent idea!” Mrs. Shepherd trilled. “There will be so many girls and omegas being presented up there, just because Old Fatty will be present.”

“I do not think one should refer to the future king in that way”, Sir Robert said in a mildly reproving tone.

“If he does become king”, Samandriel pointed out. “He might be like the Black Prince, and die before his father. Then we would have Queen Charlotte.”

“Oh Bobby!” she laughed. “They actually call him the Prince of Whales, as in the sea-creature. Heavens, if he ever followed his poor father and took up sea-bathing, there is the real danger that a passing whaler might harpoon him in error!”

They all laughed.

+~+~+

It would have been totally untoward of Castiel and Samandriel Dashwood to have teased their brother on the way home, and they very pointedly refrained from mentioning his behaviour at dinner that evening. Although it might be said that they knew that they did not need to, as their mother had all the subtlety of a brick.

“So”, she said brightly as they walked the short distance back to the cottage. “Gabriel, darling. You and the colonel, hmm?”

Samandriel snickered, earning him a glare from his brother.

“The two of you seemed... close”, their mother smiled. Her middle son's face was bright red.

“Could hardly have been closer without Gabriel getting inside his shirt”, Castiel muttered loudly, making sure he was far enough from his brother to avoid any retaliatory action. He did however get a fierce scowl.

“Did I hear you hissing at Mrs. Shepherd when she drew the colonel's attention one time?” their mother asked. Gabriel was now staring fixedly at the path.

“I did not hiss!” he said defensively. “And shut up, you two!”

“And someone's sixteenth birthday is coming up soon”, their mother continued unabashed. “Would you like to spend the day with your handsome soldier?”

“And the night!” Samandriel smirked, then yelped when Gabriel cuffed him.

“It is traditional”, Castiel grinned and Gabriel walked quickly on ahead. “And so romantic. I wonder what sort of things that our dear colonel is capable of at – what was the term someone used to me recently? - oh yes, 'his great age'?”

The door to the cottage slammed loudly as Gabriel stormed off to his room. They all laughed. 

+~+~+

Castiel was not a morning person at the best of times, but on this particular morning he rolled into the kitchen for breakfast to find Samandriel chuckling mightily. Gabriel was just scowling.

“Did I miss something?” Castiel yawned. He had had a pleasant dream about a certain alpha with green eyes and bowed legs, and had woken to a sense of disappointment at it being just a dream.

“Colonel Brandon has offered to take Gabriel in his carriage to London”, Samandriel grinned. “Take him for.... a 'ride'.”

“I am sure the colonel will behave with great propriety”, their mother said, cutting some slices off a load of bread. “He is after all a gentleman.”

“And twice Gabriel's age”, Castiel could not resist pointing out.

“Twice his age plus five years”, Samandriel corrected. “And I will wager he know some rather interesting military manoeuvres!”

Gabriel scowled at them both.

“Luke knows how to behave!” he hissed.

“Ooo, you called him Luke!” their mother trilled. “That's so sweeeeeet!”

Gabriel looked like he wanted to die. But then he had teased other family members often enough in the past, so any sympathy Castiel might have felt for him was strictly limited. As in non-existent.

“Delaford is a fine estate”, he said. “And I would wager that the colonel cannot wait for Gabriel's birthday, so he can start work on securing an heir for it.”

“Heir and spares”, Samandriel grinned. “He will probably want at least six children.”

“Might even form his own regiment....”

Castiel's comment was cut off by the slamming of the door, as Gabriel stormed off to his room again. They all laughed.

+~+~+

Castiel walked over to Dark Barton later that day to see that the changes he had made to the library were working to Lady Amara's satisfaction. As things turned out she was not there, having gone into Exeter for some reason, but Castiel did find Miss Gale. To his surprise she looked troubled.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Mrs. Moseley came over yesterday”, she told him. “I did not mean to listen in, but my bedroom is directly above the reception room, so I could not avoid it.”

Mrs. Missouri Moseley lived by herself in an isolated cottage some way outside the town, and was definitely not a witch, if only because the last person to so describe her had immediately come down with a painful and rather ill-positioned rash. Her seer abilities were renowned in the area, and when she spoke, people listened. Castiel was at once on edge.

“You have been spending too much time with Charlie”, he observed. The girl did not smile. 

“I only heard a word here or there”, she said. “But Mrs. Moseley mentioned Mr. Dean Ferrers' name, which I thought unusual.”

Castiel's heart sank.

“And that made two visitors that day”, she said. “Mr. Samuel Ferrers came over later, although I only saw him as he left. But the odd thing was that Lady Amara always sends for me after any call, yet after he came, she did not do so. And today she went down to Exeter alone, without asking me to accompany her.”

“Maybe she felt like some privacy?” Castiel offered.

“He made me feel a little uncomfortable, did Mr. Ferrers”, she said. “I was sat drawing at the window, and he said that one never knew what one might see through the glass that could change one's life.”

That was the moment when Castiel remembered that Mr. Samuel Ferrers' house was right next door to that of his brother, outside which Dean and he.....

Oh fiddlesticks!

+~+~+  
Note: In 1809 George III was still king in name and deed – just – and his son George Prince of Wales was impatiently waiting to get his greasy mitts on the reins of power. George Junior had married his cousin Caroline of Brunswick, against his will and only because parliament promised to pay off his debts when he married. They had had one child, the Princess Charlotte (born 1796) mentioned in this story. Sadly she died in childbirth in 1817 prompting some of Prince George's younger brothers to belatedly marry in an attempt to secure the succession, the prize going to Edward Duke of Kent (died 1820) whose wife Victoire produced the future Queen Victoria (reigned 1837-1901).


	18. Protectors And Parliament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18\. Sir Robert Middleton and Colonel Brandon defend their omega mates, Crowley bangs the drums, and Mrs. Shepherd... well, some things never change! Dean finds his brother's attitude shameful, and sees something unexpected whilst missing something else. And the British Houses of Parliament are scene to an alpha meeting an omega with no unseemly nuzzling (that's 'no' as in 'some', and 'some' as in 'rather a lot of').

Dean was feeling distinctly uneasy, without knowing exactly as to why. He and Sammy had arrived at Dark House and settled in well enough, their aunt not due to arrive for at least three more days. And the elder Ferrers had a funny feeling that something somewhere was wrong.

London was pretty much itself a ghastly mess that made Dean glad that he was being put up in one of its more salubrious areas. Sammy was out every day 'being seen', but Dean preferred to read or walk the local area, not thinking about stubbled blue-eyed omegas with sex hair at all even once. Honest!

He was not sure why, but he seemed to be losing patience with his brother of late. They had walked over to a local restaurant one day, and on the way back had come across an injured soldier begging at the side of the road. Dean had dropped some coins into the man's hat, but he noted with annoyance that his brother had not. He challenged him on it once they were on their way again.

“You saw his injuries”, Sam shuddered. “I hate war! I am not funding it.”

“Neither am I”, Dean said, more than a little annoyed at his brother's words. “But mankind is what it is, and as long as there are Napoleons in the world there will always be wars. If we cannot stop them, then at least we can support the brave men who fight for us in them.”

“I am rather short just now”, Sam said. Dean looked at him in surprise.

“Again?” he queried. “Surely you are not persisting in that pretentious idea of having a fake coat of arms painted on your barouche?”

His brother seemed to find the pavement suddenly fascinating. Dean lost patience.

“You would rather fund some vanity project than save a brave man from penury”, he scoffed. “For shame!”

“It is my money”, Sam said stoutly.

“It is our aunt's money”, Dean said. “And you know how parsimonious she is. If she thinks you are wasting money, she may cut your allowance.”

“Then it is a good thing that she will never find out!” Sam snapped, and stomped ahead into the house. Dean sighed.

+~+~+

His aunt's dislike of Sir Robert Middleton made Dean's meeting with his friend in the capital difficult, but as she had not yet arrived, he took the opportunity to meet the older man at another local restaurant. Unfortunately, their meal at La Belle Vigne was not to be uneventful. 

Crowley had gone to use the bathroom, and was almost back at the table when a tall, pale alpha stepped into his way. Dean looked across in surprise.

“Doctor Buckner!” Crowley said in an unusually high voice, cowering back in fear.

Dean did not recognize the newcomer, but clearly both the laird and his husband did. Sir Robert moved with impressive speed for a man of his bulk, and was around the table and behind his mate in seconds.

“Well, well”, the doctor said in a nasally tone. “Long time no......”

He got no further, for Sir Robert's first connected with his face with a loud crunch. The tall alpha reeled back and fell to the floor.

“If I ever see you near my omega again”, Sir Robert snarled, “I will end you! Begone, vermin!”

He bared his teeth – Dean could see at least three of the restaurant's staff moving over to deal with all this alpha aggression, albeit hardly at any great speed – but fortunately Doctor Buckner had the sense to scramble out of range and flee. Sir Robert wrapped his now whining omega in his arms and escorted him back to his place, keeping him close until Crowley had stopped shivering.

“Who was that?” Dean asked.

“One of the doctors from the nightmare of a place I got Crowley out of”, Sir Robert growled. “There there, beloved. He is gone now, and cannot hurt you. Not whilst I live and breathe, by God!”

Dean passed Crowley his handkerchief, and the omega blew his nose loudly on it. He was still shivering, but he eventually calmed down. Despite their being what he affectionately thought of as 'the odd couple', Dean felt a pang of jealousy that his friend had an omega to hold and he did not.

+~+~+

Two days prior to his aunt's arrival Dean took a walk to a small park some streets away that may have changed his life for the better. Unfortunately, it did not.

 

It was a complete coincidence that this was Plaisance Square, and that the house on the northern side was Dashwood House. Dean would have had to have been a very bad alpha to have been stalking his omega in this way. It was just pure coincidence.

No wonder Charlie had threatened to re-name him Dean of de Nile in those awful stories she wrote!

There was unfortunately, so sign of a gorgeous stubbled blue-eyed omega with sex hair - not of course that Dean was looking for such an omega - but he did spot Colonel Brandon walking out with Gabriel Dashwood, who could only have gotten closer to his alpha had he been inside his clothes. They were on the other side of the small ornamental lake, so Dean walked round with the intention of meeting them at the end of the promenade.

Unfortunately, someone else got there first. Lieutenant Balthazar Willoughby. Dean's fists just itched.

Willoughby, the lady with him, Brandon and Gabriel Dashwood were still some way from him, and as he drew nearer he heard the lieutenant say something to the omega and laugh coarsely. The next moment, Brandon's fist had connected with his smug visage, and he was reeling back into the lake to the accompanying screams of his lady-friend. The colonel took a step towards him, but Gabriel Dashwood restrained him and the two walked off hurriedly in the direction of Dashwood House. Dean noted that no-one seemed overly inclined to help the lieutenant out of his watery resting-place.

Oh dear. How sad. Never mind.

Finding himself now uncomfortably close to Dashwood House, Dean decided to take a longer route back to Dark House and headed off down St. Cross Avenue. This, as the Fates would have it, was to prove a rather costly way home, because it meant that he did not pass a small, nondescript restaurant in Garrison Lane. For had he have done, he would have seen his brother and fiancée in all but name having a meal outside in the summer sun.

And kissing. 

Several times.

+~+~+

The day before his aunt's arrival was enlivened for Dean by further happenings, one of which might have been described as predictable and one of which was not.

Sir Robert had asked Dean if he would come round to the house and basically 'omega-sit' Crowley, who was still in shock after his restaurant encounter. The nobleman had several business dealings that he needed to transact, but he was reluctant to leave his mate behind with just the servants. Dean did not always get on with Crowley, but he knew the omega made his friend happy, so stopped by on his way to Middleton House to purchase a box of the man's favorite chocolates, and a bottle of whisky that he knew he liked. 

He arrived at the house and was greeted by Sir Robert, who thanked him for the gifts.

“Though he will have to have them later”, he said. “He is out in the music room at the moment.”

Dean could hear some faint noise coming from the back of the house. It sounded less like music, and more like someone repeatedly falling down some stairs. He looked inquiringly at his friend, who shrugged.

“I have not told anyone except Rowena this”, he said quietly, “but after the way that he was treated at that terrible place in Exeter, poor Crowley sometimes has nightmares. We had just thought it was one of those things, but a friend of a friend suggested what he called 'music therapy'; let the patient find an instrument they like, and play it for hours.”

“And Crowley went for drums, of course!” Dean grinned. 

“He has his main set in Barton”, Sir Robert said, “but after the other day I found a place in town that hires them out. Better still, they also provide something called 'baffle boards' that muffle the sound. The important thing is, it makes him happy.”

And that makes you happy, Dean thought, not the least bit envious. 

He was distracted by the entrance of a footman, a tall dark-skinned burly beta, who looked rather the worse for wear. The man ran for his position, trying to make himself at least slightly less dishevelled.

“That's Henriksen”, Sir Robert said. “I loaned him to Mrs. Dashwood, so she could make the journey here in safety.”

“He looks a little... worse for wear?” Dean ventured.

“Rowena!” the nobleman muttered, as if that explained everything. Which it pretty much did.

+~+~+

Dean was on his way back to Dark House when he noticed that the newspaper boys seemed to have a lot more customers than usual. Guessing that something important had happened, he pushed his way through and purchased a paper. His eyebrows shot up when he read that the Foreign Secretary Canning and his colleague the War Secretary Castlereagh had had a furious argument, and were resolved to settle it with a duel. Honestly, politicians these days!

+~+~+

Lady Amara arrived in London the following day, and duly settled in at Dark House. She had seemed strangely preöccupied, and Dean had wondered why. He was however distracted by his thoughts constantly returning to a certain blue-eyed omega, whose scent he was now imagining all around him. 

Dean had obtained tickets to see round the Houses of Parliament, from Charlie's patronesses' brother-in-law Lord Bevell. The nobleman had warned Dean that with the precarious state of the Portland government – and two ministers threatening to shoot out an argument was not exactly helping! - that he might be called away to the Lords at short notice. Sure enough, Dean had arrived to find Lord Bevell was in the chamber, so he had undertaken a tour of the place himself.

Fortunately his tour finished just as the session in the Lords ended, and he came out into the central area to find Lord Bevell coming from the chamber. Dean thanked him profusely for his efforts, and the nobleman gave him a ticket for the house restaurant before having to hurry off to a committee meeting. The alpha turned to leave.

Seconds later he was once again buried in that heavenly scent and that long, slim neck of a certain omega. This was a (fairly) public place, but he could not have moved for either love or money.

“Hullo, Dean”, Castiel muttered, patting the alpha gently on the back. Dean may or many not have whined at this point, but hopefully no-one heard him.

“Hullo, Mr. Ferrers”, came Inias' voice. 

Except possibly his uncle's nephew, who was standing right next to them. Dean pulled back and looked un-focussedly at him.

“Mphm?” he managed.

“I shall go and get a coffee in the restaurant over there”, Inias said. “I will see you later, Castiel. Be good!”

He bounced off. Dean sighed and dropped back into his Happy Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Houses of Parliament in this story were the old buildings, parts of which dated back some eight centuries to Saxon times. They were burnt down in a fire in 1834, and replaced with the current mock-Gothic structure that includes the Elizabeth Tower with its bell, Big Ben.


	19. Crosshairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19\. Castiel's London trip starts with a surprise encounter; indeed, he is not the only Dashwood to experience one. He and Inias visit the Houses of Parliament, where a certain alpha once again ends up nuzzling a certain omega. An unfortunate decision about a left turn proves costly to Dean, and Rowena undertakes some military manoeuvres (it's Rowena; go figure!).

Undoubtedly the best thing about Dashwood House, Castiel had thought on his few trips there, was that it was in truth two houses. About a century before Sir Reuben Dashwood had sought to purchase a row of three London properties in Plaisance Square, but owing to the sudden death of the owner of the middle property, had ended up with the two either side. The family had since made frequent efforts to obtain the central property, but to no avail. This meant that although technically living in the same house, he would rarely see Lord Raphael and Lady Lilith. 

Ah well, into every life a little rain must fall.

His mother assessing the various items of plate to see if there was anything she could take back to Devonshire was, perhaps, pushing it. Perhaps. Castiel had not yet met Miss Ruby Steele, as she had apparently been delayed in Surrey, but she had sent to assure that she would be there in time for the Grand Ball.

A little more rain.

+~+~+

They had been three days in the capital when a letter arrived for Castiel. He was surprised; he could think of no-one who would write to him here, so he opened it and read the contents. Then he went quite pale, and uttered a silent prayer of thanks that his mother had taken Samandriel on a shopping trip, whilst Gabriel was out with Colonel Brandon.

After some time spent collecting himself, Castiel simply told the servants that he was going out for a walk, declining their offer of someone to accompany him. His destination was about a mile away, but this part of the city was relatively safe. Sure enough, he arrived at Dark House in good time, and was shown up immediately.

Lady Amara de Noir looked at him curiously.

“I have sent for you, Mr. Dashwood”, she said, “because certain information has recently come into my possession. I believe that you may be in a position to confirm or deny it.”

She was, Castiel thought, surprisingly civil considering she was talking to a mere omega, as she would doubtless view him. He did not know whether that was a good or a bad thing.

“I shall endeavour to do so if it is within my power, my lady”, he said. She nodded.

“First, that you were seen being kissed by my nephew and appointed heir, Mr. Dean Ferrers. Is that true?”

Castiel did not hesitate.

“It is, my lady.”

She seemed more than a little taken aback at his admitting that so readily, but continued.

“Second”, she continued, “and now more seriously regarding what you have just said, that my nephew is secretly engaged to one Miss Ruby Steele, elder sister of my ward's companion.”

“That is technically untrue”, Castiel said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. He expected her to start shouting at this point, but she seemed surprisingly restrained.

“Technically?” she said. “Please explain.”

Castiel felt that he was about to drop a certain alpha well and truly in the _merde_ , but also that there was no way of avoiding it. He took a deep breath.

“I used that word because, as I understand matters, your nephew made a pledge to marry Miss Ruby Steele when they were younger”, he explained. “Therefore they are not engaged, in the strict legal sense of the term, but as a man of honour he doubtless feels obliged to offer for her, should she request it.”

“It does not seem honourable to pledge to a lady and then initiate a relationship with an omega”, she said coolly. 

“It so happens that your nephew and I are True Mates”, he said. “Our scents are a perfect match. I shall swear on the Bible, however, that kissing me is the most he has ever done.”

She looked hard at him, but seemed to accept his statement.

“I see”, he said. “Do you know anything of this Miss Ruby Steele?”

Castiel hesitated.

“I have not yet met her, my lady”, he said, “although she is due to arrive at Dashwood House for the Grand Ball shortly. I understand, however, that she has only the familial inheritance of under a thousand. Her nature is, I have been told by more than one source, an unpleasant one; she once stood to inherit more from an elderly relative, but her manner lost her that chance.”

Lady Amara pursed her lips at that.

“Indeed”, she said. “And you are, I suppose, unaware of any other attachments that she may or nay not have?”

“Gossip says many things about her”, Castiel said, “but of course, few or none may be true. I have however heard from more than one source – and I do not include your nephew in that tally – that she did previously allow the attentions of your other nephew, Mr. Samuel Ferrers, before she extracted a pledge to marry from his elder brother.”

She smiled a strange smile. Castiel felt quite unnerved.

“Interesting”, she said. “Well, I shall thank you for coming here today, sir.”

He bowed, still more than surprised that the meeting had passed without any shouting. He was puzzled all the way home.

+~+~+

On his third visit to see his friend, Inias told his fellow omega that he had secured tickets to see round the Houses of Parliament at Westminster. When Castiel had asked how, he had just sighed and muttered 'Rowena!'. 

Castiel had to admit; the centre of the United Kingdom's governmental power was... disappointing. He supposed that eight centuries of building without much in the way of planning was going to result in a mess, but this – well. 

“I think it unfair that so many of the honourable members are voted in by so few people”, Inias said. “Hopefully it will all change some day.”

“I do not think change is very popular just now”, Castiel said, “what with the French so keen on it. But once this terrible war is finally over, perhaps then.”

“Oh look, there is Lord Bevell”, Inias said.

“You know him?” Castiel asked, surprised. An elderly alpha tottered across the ornate floor in front of them, his stick tapping loudly as he went.

“They call him the Gypsy”, Inias said, “on account of his dark skin. I read that his father married a freed slave from the Indies, though I do not know if it was East or West. You should know him as much as I, if not more so.”

“Why?” Castiel asked.

“Your friend Miss Steele told us about him”, Inias said. “Remember? He is the brother and successor of Lord Anthony, whose widow Antonia is giving Charlie all her money.”

“Not all”, Castiel corrected. “Her two younger sisters have half to share between them.”

“That is still two thousand each”, Inias said, “and she gets four!”

Castiel looked understandingly at his friend. Inias' parents had left him a fair sum of money but it was all tied up in litigation, and the worsening relations between Great Britain and the United States made any immediate resolution unlikely.

“Neither of us may be rich”, he said carefully, “but at least we are not compelled to marry against our wishes. That, in this day and age, is something.”

He did not add 'for an omega', but then he did not need to.

“True”, Inias sighed. “And we are not about to be receiving unwanted attentions from any alphas who..... oh.”

An alpha had come out of a door just ahead of them and greeted Lord Bevell, before parting from him and turning towards them both. Castiel did not exactly have time to take in the newcomer's smartly-dressed appearance, although as the man was almost instantly buried into his neck, he did not really have to.

“Hullo, Dean”, he muttered, patting the alpha gently on the back and eliciting a happy whine. Inias, being a good friend, waited some little time before speaking.

“Hullo, Mr. Ferrers”, he said, a smile on his face. Dean pulled back and looked unfocussedly at him.

“Mphm?” he managed.

“I shall go and get a coffee in the restaurant over there”, Inias said. “I will see you later, Castiel. Be good!”

He bounced off. Castiel knew that several men were staring at the omega with an alpha seemingly attached to him, but frankly he did not care.

+~+~+

Inias was tactful enough that, when Dean and Castiel eventually joined him in the small restaurant, he only stayed a few minutes with them before saying that he wished to look round some more and would see them back here in half an hour or so. Dean owed him for that.

“I have some news for you”, Castiel said gravely.

Dean looked at him in alarm. 

“What is it?” he asked anxiously.

“I was summonsed to see your aunt, shortly after she arrived in the capital”, Castiel said. “She had heard about your kissing me.”

“Sammy!” the alpha growled. “Little runt!”

“I am afraid”, Castiel said, “that she has also discovered that you have what amounts to an engagement with Miss Ruby Steele.”

Dean stared at him in horror.

“How?” he blurted out. “You did not tell her?”

He recoiled from Castiel's glare. The omega may or may not have felt pleased at that (he did).

“I had to confirm that you were indeed pledged to marry her”, he said. “I do not know whence she obtained the original information.”

“That cannot be Sammy”, Dean said firmly. “He does not know.”

Castiel rather admired the alpha for his fraternal loyalty, although he increasingly suspected that such loyalty was unmerited.

“Well, someone does”, he said. “Charlie would never tell, and Miss Ruby Steele is not yet in the capital, nor would she find it in her interests so to do.”

Dean looked thoughtfully at him.

“I had to tell Lady Amara what Charlie had said about your brother once having had something of a crush on her sister”, the omega said. “Do you know if he still does?”

Dean now looked even worse. Castiel called over a waitress, and gave her an order. Seemingly just seconds later, two coffees arrived on their table – and a slice of pie appeared in front of the alpha. The look of piteous gratitude the omega got in return was almost too much.

+~+~+

Castiel did not find it that amusing that Gabriel had taken to hissing at people if Colonel Brandon so much as talked to them with the omega present. 

All right, he did. 

“I am relieved about the government sacking General Belliver over the barracks projects”, the colonel said one day as the three sat in the front room. “Apparently the London papers got wind of a lady emerging from his apartment the other night, and that lady was not Mrs. Belliver.”

“The papers call him Tight-Arse Titus!” Gabriel sniggered. The colonel played fondly with a lock of the omega's hair, and his future mate purred in satisfaction.

“They do not say who the lady was?” Castiel asked, ignoring the glare he got from his brother for actually speaking.

“Guess!” the colonel grinned. 

“Rowena again?” Castiel sighed. “That lady is a menace.”

“She must have planned it”, the colonel said. “For all her... well, being her, she never takes on a married or pledged male. I think....”

Gabriel hissed his dissatisfaction at being out of the conversation for so long, and the colonel smiled and pulled him closer. Castiel allowed himself a smirk.

“Shut up!” Gabriel muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Houses of Parliament mentioned here was the Old Palace of Westminster, destroyed by a fire some twenty-five years after this story is set. It was a rabbit-warren of a site, first built on as long ago as the tenth century and 'gifted' to parliament when King Henry VIII (1509-1547) moved across to the road to Whitehall Palace, which itself was destroyed by fire in 1698. The modern Houses of Parliament is a Gothic reconstruction, most famous for the Elizabeth Tower that houses the bell called Big Ben.   
> The prime minister at the time of the story was the Whig William Cavendish-Bentinck, better known by his title the Duke of Portland; the mentioned duel took place later in the year and both ministers survived, but had to resign. That, and the ongoing Walcheren debacle, brought down the government. By the by, politicians of the time were not paid a salary, as it was thought this would lead to undesirables entering the political field. Really, who could think that paying politicians would cause.... oh....


	20. A Night To Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20\. The Grand Ball takes place, and as far as Mr. Dean Ferrers is concerned, it is a grand disaster, because of a surprise encounter behind a potted plant. His future prospects are reduced if not destroyed, and the only (possible) upside is that Ruby may now be put off of him by the fact that he is now some twenty thousand pounds poorer - although unfortunately, that also scotches any hopes he might have had towards a certain omega. At least, until Castiel encounters him in the park the next day, and proceeds to make Dean's bad situation even worse.

Even though he himself was distracted by thoughts of what apparel Mr. Castiel Dashwood would be wearing to the ball (and other thoughts as to what he would look like not wearing said apparel), Dean had noticed that the people around him were behaving a little oddly. His aunt was still preöccupied, and had had several people come to the house whom he had not been allowed to see. Tonight would be hard enough as it was.

Yes, hard in that sense too. Thank the Lord for loose trousers!

+~+~+

The evening had been going relatively well. The party had been presented to the Prince of Wales (who really was incredibly fat!), which had been amusing when the heir to the throne had looked more than a little distracted during his meeting with Mrs. Shepherd, and this had also served to distract Ruby, who was all of a flutter at the privilege of meeting royalty. Dean had also had the pleasure of seeing Charlie escorting Miss Gale around, the red-head looking very pleased with herself. Even better, Sammy had informed him that their aunt had been delayed, having been invited to a small reception hosted by some Extremely Important People. So Dean was free to enjoy himself, and did not spend a large part of the evening ogling a certain omega who was wearing a waistcoat that should have been illegal in the way it hugged his slender form.

It really was too hot for a ball room, Dean thought.

He was pleased that Mrs. Dashwood had been talked out of presenting Gabriel here, and also for his friend Lucifer who was clearly smitten with the omega. The colonel claimed the omega's attentions for the entire evening, growling warningly when other alphas or even betas came too close (Dean hoped that they had somehow missed the omega's mother giving them both a double thumbs-up signal from her seat). He also noted, quite incidentally, that her eldest son seemed disinclined to step out with anyone, and wished that he could pluck up the courage to ask him for a dance. Unfortunately he had an all too accurate feeling as to how such a dance would end.

He did feel compelled to spend some little time with his cousin Lilith, who was wearing a truly hideous burgundy dress that made her look like a walking tent. Worse, her husband had stepped aside to spend time talking with some politician or other, so Dean felt obliged to remain with his relation until the latter's return, which seemed to take an eternity as he listened to her complaints about how terrible her life was at Norland. Finally Lord Raphael came back, and after a few pleasantries Dean was able to move away and spend some more quality time ogling a certain omega.

Unfortunately – very unfortunately, as things turned out – his attentions had been noticed. As he was passing near the entrance-hall he was waylaid by Ruby, who looked extremely angry. She pulled him to just behind a large and rather ugly potted plant.

“So that is the omega you are interested in”, she hissed angrily. “I would wager that you have done the deed with him already. So much for Mr. High-and-Mighty's criticisms of my actions!”

“He and I have done nothing improper”, Dean said defensively, though as he said it the number of times that he had scented the omega started to tick over in his disobliging brain. It took some time. “For one thing, there is no baby!”

The woman before him grew even angrier.

“Might I remind you, 'Mr. Ferrers', that you are pledged to marry me some day!” she almost spat.

“Indeed!”

And that was the precise moment that the bottom fell out of Dean's world. For who had just come sailing around the ugly plant but his Aunt Amara, with a look on her face that would have stopped a herd of wild horses mid-stampede. He bowed instinctively to her, noting that Ruby was too shocked even to manage the obligatory curtsey on her part.

“Well?” his aunt said archly. “I am waiting for my explanation!”

Dean swallowed hard, fighting down an urge to just make a run for it. 

“Some years ago I pledged to marry Miss Steele here, when she so chose”, he said carefully. His aunt's eyes narrowed.

“I see”, she said heavily. “So good of you to mention that to me, nephew – oh wait, you did not.” She turned her glare on Ruby. “And I presume, madam, that your choice of wedding-day would, by some amazing coincidence, have been shortly after my own demise and your future husband inheriting my wealth?”

Ruby blushed, and stared hard at the floor. Dean almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

“Very well”, his aunt said, a strange look on her face. “Marry him, girl, if that is what you wish. But understand this. He will get not a single penny from me. Before my return to Devonshire I shall be instructing my solicitor to draw up a new will that utterly disinherits him. I shall settle my lands on someone much more deserving.”

She turned to sweep away, then hesitated.

“And nephew?” she added. “Do not trouble yourself to return to my house this evening, save to collect your things. Good day.”

She went to speak to one of her servants, who scuttled back outside to do her bidding, then sailed regally into the main hall. Dean gulped. This was bad.

+~+~+

“Every cloud has a silver lining, though”, Charlie said later, when he had told her all about it later (fortunately his aunt had retired to a side-room after all her exertions, and Miss Gale was keeping an eye on her). “Ruby will not want to marry you now, so you can declare your love for Castiel.”

“With no money?” Dean asked incredulously. “The little I have on my own is less than a thousand pounds. An alpha cannot offer for an omega who has more money that he himself does. Everyone knows that.”

“But you love him”, Charlie said. 

“What has love got to do with it?” Dean sighed unhappily. “What is love but a second-hand emotion? It is not as if he loves me in return, anyway.”

Her silence was strikingly loud. He stared uncertainly at her.

“What has he said to you?” Dean asked warily.

“I cannot possibly comment”, she said archly. “You would not expect me to betray a confidence, Dean.”

He pouted, then tried batting his eyelashes hopefully at her.

“Do you have something in your eye?” she asked politely.

So much for that, then.

+~+~+

After a brief conversation with Sir Robert, Dean quitted the dance and left for his aunt's house to collect his few belongings, then headed to the nobleman's house where, although they were not expecting him, there was at least a bed for the night.

He had worried that his aunt's anger with Ruby might rebound on poor Charlie, but fortunately Lady Amara had come to approve of the red-head and the quite correct way in which she always deferred to her betters when it came to who was allowed to approach Miss Gale, and who was not. At Sir Robert's house, his friend sent Dean a letter that his aunt had ended the evening in a marginally better mood, though still determined to disinherit him in favour of Sam. Indeed, she had sent for her lawyers to attend her first thing the following morning.

His brother had been as shocked as he himself by the events of that night, and had agreed to escort Ruby away to the house of a friend of theirs (Dean supposed she would hardly be welcome at the Dashwoods' house, especially as Lady Lilith and his aunt had, to his even further depression, established an accord over their united disapproval of his behaviour). The damnable thing was that, morally, he felt that he would still have to marry the girl if she asked, unlikely as that now was. It was all incredibly vexing.

+~+~+

There was some better news the following morning, though not much. A further letter from Charlie arrived, saying that she and Dorothy had managed to talk his aunt out of completely disinheriting him, by cleverly pointing out that this would enable Sir Robert Middleton to step in and fully fund the alpha's lifestyle. Much better, they had urged, for her to grant him only a minimal allowance which, with his own small income, would enable him to 'get by'. The valley would, of course admire and praise the grievously wronged Lady Amara for her most gracious and unexpected munificence, especially given the way she had been so cruelly treated by her heedless and wanton nephew. 

Dean often thought that Charlie could probably have sold sand to the tribes in the Sahara Desert, if she had put her mind to it.

Less welcome was having to face Sir Robert and Laird Crowley, who had returned from the ball in full knowledge of what had transpired. At least Mrs. Shepherd was absent from the breakfast-table.

“My dear step-mother said she had some urgent business in the capital”, Crowley said, rolling his eyes. “At this hour of the morning.”

Dean wondered cattily what the urgent business' name was, and if he was aware of just what he was taking on in Rowena Shepherd. 

“I had thought that your brother would be staying with us”, Sir Robert said. “But we received a note from him this morning saying that after he had escorted Miss Steele away from the dance, he had then gone to try to explain things to Lady Amara.”

“Glutton for punishment”, Crowley muttered, smiling at his husband.

“Sammy always did try to stand up for me”, Dean said, although as he said it he was wondering about just how loyal his brother was. What if Sammy had been the one to tell their aunt about him and Ruby after all?

“That Miss Ruby Steele has a lot to answer for”, Crowley said. “It is in the papers that she has had a relationship with an army lieutenant. One even claims that they had a child.”

“One should not believe everything one reads in the papers”, Sir Robert said loftily.

“Last night is in the papers already?” Dean asked.

“It is the London papers”, Sir Robert said. “They get their news out fast.”

Dean groaned.

+~+~+

The alpha went for a walk in a nearby park that morning to clear his head, but he could not stop fretting about the events of the past twenty-four hours. His life was pretty much ruined.

He was about to head back to the house when he smelt it. A wonderfully familiar smell of cold air, honey and home. The next moment Castiel Dashwood came around the corner of the path and greeted him. It took every ounce of Dean's self-control not to bury himself in that glorious body.

As he nuzzled the omega once more, he told himself that he could probably use some work on his self-control. Castiel patted him gently, then eased him back. Dean did not whine.

Dean did not whine that much.

“I came to see you at the house”, Castiel said gently, “and they said you might be walking here. I am sorry that I was unable to talk to you at the dance in time yesterday.”

“In time for what?” Dean was confused.

Castiel looked at him gravely.

“I did not want to tell you”, he said slowly, “because I know how highly you rate your brother. But just before we left Devonshire, he paid a visit to your aunt. I do not know what was discussed, but from a remark he made to Miss Gale before leaving and certain other, ahem, developments, I now believe that he had found out about you and Miss Ruby Steele who, given what has since transpired, I believe he may still hold a candle for. And seeing you kissing me, he then saw an excellent chance to become your aunt's heir.”

Dean stared at the omega in shock. Sammy would never do such a thing to him.

Would he?


	21. South-Western Comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 21\. The aftermath of the events at the Great Ball. Castiel puts two and two together and does not like what he comes up with. He is however surprised at Lady Amara's reaction – or rather, non-reaction – to his second conversation with her on the matter. Mrs. Shepherd proves very helpful (if annoyingly correct) when she assumes the worst, and Castiel has to hug Dean to comfort him.  
> Daily.   
> Because he has to.  
> Shut up!

As he had watched Mr. Samuel Ferrers escorting Miss Ruby Steele from the dance, Castiel had wondered about the tall young alpha. And that remark by Charlie that he had passed onto Lady Amara, that Dean's brother had always had a crush on Miss Ruby Steele, had set the omega thinking. He always tried to think the best of people (all right, Gabriel excepted), but.....

He had to make some inquiries, but already he had a horrible feeling that he would not like what he would be finding out. And poor Dean would be devastated.

+~+~+

Mrs. Shepherd looked at the omega in surprise.

“And what would I know about such things?” she asked, a smile playing across her features.

“Ladies, like omegas, are the so-called weaker vessels”, Castiel said. “But they do say that knowledge is power. And I know that you do have a strong moral code when it comes to betrayal, of any sort.”

“That is true”, she said. “What would you ask of me?”

“I require information”, Castiel said. “Someone who could tell me whether two people have communicated at all of late. If they had, then I think that Lady Amara would be most interested to know.”

Her smile widened.

“If what you say is true”, she said, “then so should I. Yes, despite the reputation that I am well aware of, I have certain Standards that are set in Portland stone. Of course I do not have immediate access to such information, but here in London it is easier to come by. It may be hours, it may be days, but I promise that I will look into it.”

He bowed his gratitude.

Castiel paid one more call before returning to Dashwood House and the horrors of Lady Lilith's company at a Family Meal (ugh!). Charlie did not seem surprised at what he had to say, and promised that she and Dorothy would work to ensure that what he wanted to not happen would not happen.

+~+~+

It was two weeks later, and the whole party was back in Devonshire. Castiel's meeting with Lady Amara that morning had gone – surprisingly well, all things considered. The grande dame accepted his – well, Mrs. Shepherd's evidence, and thanked him for it. She had been understandably angry, and although he knew that that anger was not directed at he himself, he still felt a little bruised by the encounter. Rather oddly (and perhaps worryingly), she had not seemed as surprised as he had expected.

Fortunately there was something to take his mind off of that. On his way back to the cottage he passed the now familiar tree-stump, and there waiting was a certain green-eyed alpha. Castiel smiled and opened his arms, and Dean all but fell into them, sighing contentedly. Just like yesterday. And every day this week.

+~+~+

The following day Castiel stopped at the restaurant for a coffee, feeling a need for refreshment. He smiled as he remembered Gabriel coming back to the cottage after walking down to see Colonel Brandon; his brother's scent was already changing to match that of the handsome blond alpha, and the omega's birthday was only a week or so away now. Soon they would have the devil himself in the family!

“What are you smiling about?” Jo Harvelle asked as she brought him his coffee.

“Scents and Scentability”, Castiel said dreamily. She looked at him in confusion.

“Anyway”, she said, “I have some interesting gossip. You will never guess who paid a call on Lady Amara yesterday.”

“I will almost certainly never guess”, Castiel smiled, “but I have a feeling that you will be telling me within the next few minutes anyway, so I do not need to.”

She pouted.

“You, Castiel Dashwood, are no fun!”

“True.”

“Her London lawyers!” she said triumphantly. “All the way down from the big city to this backwater. I will wager that this is all to enable her to make a big scene about disinheriting poor Dean.”

“Maybe”, Castiel said. She scowled at him.

“What I do not understand, is that she was only there the other week”, Jo said. “What is so important that it could not be done then? I am sure they have charged mightily for coming all this way.”

“Maybe these things have to be put out in public beforehand?” Castiel suggested. That was the trouble with areas like Barton Ferrers; things were usually so quiet that any event, no matter how small, drew attention.

“Hmm”, she said. “And I heard that the day before you all left for London, she had another visitor”, she said. “Old Mrs. Moseley!”

“I know”, Castiel said. She stared at him, clearly annoyed.

“Why did you not tell me?” she demanded.

“What am I, a newspaper?” Castiel asked in mock offence.

She swatted at him.

+~+~+

“Dorothy and I are as much in the dark as you over the lawyers”, Charlie admitted when he saw her the next day. Lady Amara had come into the town to make some purchases, and the girls had been allowed to go to the restaurant for coffee. “We thought it might be something to do with Mr. Black.”

“Who?” Castiel asked.

“Mr. Iacobus Black”, Dorothy said. “We have no idea who he is, although his accent is, I think, local. He is about forty years of age, black-avised, and did not look a well man, I thought. And the strangest thing; Mrs. Shepherd called that same evening and evinced no interest in him at all, despite his being single.”

“That is truly a miracle!” Castiel smiled. “That woman can detect any unattached alpha or beta in the neighbourhood, I swear! Though I will give her her due; she does have strong morals over those who are attached. I particularly remember the shocking business concerning poor Lord Huffington, when she cut off.....”

He stopped. Both girls were looking hard at him.

“Go on”, Dorothy pressed.

“Cutting off all his cuffs like that”, Castiel said, “after she found that he had lied and had a secret wife back in Ireland.”

“Lady Amara sent for her lawyers – you were right; it was the big London ones, not the local ones down in Exeter - almost the minute that Mr. Black left her”, Charlie said, “so it may have been something to do with that. “Though I still do not understand why. And Jevington told me that he took the man back to his hotel, but was instructed to wait for him and then bring him back to one of the estate cottages, where he still is.”

“And why not transact her business whilst she was in the capital? Dorothy wondered. “Mr. Samuel Ferrers is a lucky man either way, though. He will make some girl or omega a great catch.”

Castiel kept his thoughts on that to himself and, pleading that he was late for dinner, excused himself.

+~+~+

Mrs. Shepherd had advised Castiel that he might wish to be in a certain place at a certain time, which was why the omega took a longer than usual walk that day, all the way down to Dark Barton. It was only a small village, although being athwart the main route between Bristol and Exeter it did possess one coaching inn, a rather tumbledown place called The King's Head at the northern end of its hopefully-named Grand Street. Castiel got there in good time, and pulled out his book whilst he waited.

About fifteen minutes later the weekly mail-coach, on time for once, rolled to a halt outside the tavern. The omega had a clear view of the only person to alight, a woman in a green dress that he had seen quite recently. As he had the lady wearing it.

It was Miss Ruby Steele. Castiel sighed and shook his head. Mrs. Shepherd had, as usual, been right.

+~+~+

Castiel waited a few days before walking to Dark Barton again (he was sure that the times a certain alpha spent buried in his neck every day were growing longer, but Dean was so obviously happy there, away from all his worries, that the omega did not have the heart to say anything. Besides, he quite liked it too). He made two other calls on his way there; Mrs. Shepherd informed him that Miss Ruby Steele was only spending one more night at the tavern but had already seen the person that she had come down to see, whilst Charlie was very obviously unaware that her sister was but a few miles away. The red-head had been more concerned as to developments closer to home.

“I have had some good news for myself and Dorothy”, she beamed. “Next spring Lady Amara plans to send us both on a carriage holiday to the Lake District.”

“She might decide to accompany you”, Castiel said slyly. His friend had looked horrified.

“But how would we..... uh, enjoy all the scenery?” she asked. 

The omega just looked at her.

“Shut up!” she grumbled.

“I did not say anything”, Castiel smiled.

“I know, but you have that very loud and annoyingly judgemental silence!”

+~+~+

That had been less than an hour ago, and Castiel was nearly in Dark Barton when it happened. He had stopped to smell a small patch of wild flowers that were growing next to the path leading back to his cottage. But instead of the flowery scent, all he could smell was leather, iron and....

“Alpha”, he growled, before his eyes opened wide in surprise.

He wanted Dean. He wanted him so badly that it hurt.

+~+~+

Usually, only another omega would have been able to detect the change in Castiel's scent. In this he was fortunate; Gabriel was totally distracted by his relationship with Colonel Brandon, whilst Samandriel was not yet of an age where his omega senses were fully functional. Castiel may or may not have made an effort to avoid Laird Crowley, though.

It came as a surprise when the one person to actually notice the change turned out to be an alpha. It was Rufus Turner, the eternally sour blacksmith of Barton Ferrers.

“You'd be the one seeing Mr. Dean”, he said suddenly when Castiel had brought a couple of saucepans in for repair one day. 

The omega was surprised, but nodded. 

“Yes”, he said slowly. “I.... suppose that I am.”

Rufus said nothing for a while and just worked away at one of the saucepans. Castiel thought that was it, until he spoke again.

“Ross was down at the horse-fair the other day”, he said. “Saw Mr. Samuel Ferrers buying a new horse.”

“Well, it is common knowledge that he is all but Lady Amara's appointed heir”, Castiel shrugged. “I suppose that he has money to throw around, as it were. Was he with a lady, by any chance?”

“Some brunette piece in a green dress”, Rufus said. “No-one Ross knew.”

So Mrs. Shepherd had been right about that too. Honestly, did the woman have some sort of spying arrangement with the birds of the air?

“He is, I suppose, what they call 'a catch' for any lady”, Castiel said. “Though I am sure that Lady Amara would have to approve the match first.”

“Not if she did what she said she would do, and gave Mr. Samuel everything”, the blacksmith said shortly. “He would have the money and the girl, and Her Ladyship would be powerless to stop it.”

Unless, Castiel thought with a smile he was careful to keep hidden, someone had forewarned her of just such an eventuality. In which case Mr. Samuel Ferrers – and Miss Ruby Steele – might both be in for a most unpleasant surprise. 

And as an added bonus, a certain green-eyed alpha would need comforting. Lots and lots of comforting. Which he, Castiel Dashwood, would of course feel obliged to step up and offer.


	22. Biteback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22\. Dean takes his brother's betrayal about as well as might be expected (i.e. not very). Fortunately Ruby's part in the affair means that he is now morally free to offer for a certain omega, although when Castiel tells him that they can see in the latter's forthcoming birthday together (as in together together), the alpha is horrified to find that he will have to wait four whole days! That's.... a lot of hours! But time duly passes, until Dean finally has his omega – and his omega has him!

For the second time that year, a letter arrived in Barton Ferrers that, quite brutally, broke off the affections of the sender from the recipient. But as the sender was Miss Ruby Steele and the recipient was Mr. Dean Ferrers, the recipient strove to somehow get over his disappointment. Any celebratory drinks that were imbibed on that day were entirely coincidental. And it would have been totally lacking any sense of decorum had Dean immediately sprinted away to meet Castiel, having thrown his former almost-fiancée's letter into the fire. So he did no such thing. 

It was a fast walk at most. 

“It was Gabriel's birthday yesterday.”

Dean did not reply, but tried to burrow himself even further into that glorious neck and drown himself in that heavenly scent. Then he realized that some sort of reply was called for, and his brain spluttered into something approximating life.

“His sixteenth”, he said in realization. “Uh, did he.... you know?”

Castiel chuckled, and Dean tried not to think how easy it would be to 'accidentally' make a claiming bite on that slender neck. His omega surely would not mind....

And when had he so easily become 'his' omega?

“He spent the night over at Delaford, and Luke drove him back this morning”, the omega grinned. “By the looks on their faces, I think one might be safe in presuming that they did not get much sleep. That and the fact Gabriel nodded off at the kitchen table, and had to be helped to bed.”

Lucky bastard, Dean thought. 

“Luke did ask me to say something to you, though”, Castiel said, ruffling the alpha's short hair. Dean let out something which (and he would deny this to his dying day) may have vaguely resembled a satisfied purr. Just possibly. To someone with poor hearing.

“What?” he muttered, pulling the smaller man even closer to him. (it was a cold day, damnation!).

“The living at his local church has become vacant”, Castiel said, “and he wanted to offer it to you.”

Dean actually pulled back in surprise. Delaford was a reasonably rich parish, and livings like it were few and far between. And with the extra money, he might just be in a position to.....”

“And talking of birthdays, it is mine next week”, Castiel said casually. “My twentieth, which is nothing special I suppose, but I was hoping to.... celebrate it in some way?”

The alpha was sure that he had been capable of breathing at some recent point in time, and of holding in the sort of piteous whine that escaped him at this precise moment, but Castiel just pulled him closer again. He went willingly.

“I so do not deserve you”, he muttered.

“Do not worry”, Castiel smiled. “We have many years ahead of us in which I shall convince you otherwise. I can be very... persuasive.”

This time it was most definitely a whine.

“How many days to your damn birthday?” Dean demanded.

“Next Monday”, Castiel said. “The eighteenth. Four days away.”

Dean groaned. He would not last that long, he was sure. Here lies Dean Ferrers; cause of death - sexual frustration!

+~+~+

Although he has been very definitely disinherited, Dean felt it a matter of politeness to inform his aunt that he would be asking for Mr. Castiel Dashwood's hand in marriage. He was not surprised when he received no reply to his missive, but later that day Lady Amara asked Castiel to 'call in at Darkside if he had the time'. Later the omega told Dean that whilst his aunt was still upset over his keeping his 'engagement' from her, she had re-iterated her pledge to maintain his small allowance. She had, amazingly, also wished the omega well.

Castiel had passed a farm on his way back, and was frankly surprised that none of the pigs were flying.

The ninety-six or so hours between an alpha and bliss seemed to drag, but fortunately Charlie called by on Saturday. Dean would have been pleased to see her, but he sensed immediately that she had news that, for some reason, she thought that he might not like.

“Out with it”, he sighed heavily. 

“Have you heard from your brother lately?” she asked. He shook his head.

“Not since I confronted him over ratting me out to our aunt”, he said stiffly. “He said that it was my own damn fault. I just walked away and left him to his ill-gotten gains.”

She just looked at him. He caved.

“All right, there may be a certain amount of itching powder that found its way into his underwear draw”, he grinned. “And I may have used an associate of Rowena's to get some special soap that, when he uses it, will turn his hair bright blue!”

“That is more like it”, she said cheerfully. “So where is he?”

“I do not know exactly”, Dean said. “He has gone to Monmouthshire to see Mark, a cousin of ours, though he was due back yesterday.”

“He is not in Monmouthshire”, she said carefully.

“What? How do you know?”

“Because I know where he actually is”, she said. “Surrey.”

Dean really wished that he was surprised.

“Sutton?” he asked warily. She nodded.

“When he took Ruby away after the Ball”, she said slowly. “They had met when she came to London, and planned the whole thing to disinherit you. They are set to marry once he has full control of the Darkside estate. She came down here to finalize the details – I did not even know until recently – and now that Lady Amara has completed the final transfer, he has now gone to formally ask for her hand in marriage. I am sorry, Dean.”

He sighed. It would have been nice to say that he had expected better of the woman he had pledged himself to, but it would also have been a lie. He had expected better of his own brother, though.

“I am better off without her”, he said. She looked at him in surprise.

“You are taking this better than I expected”, she said. “Are you and Castiel.... you know.”

“Waving our hands in the air?” he inquired.

She glared at him, and he chuckled.

“I am picking him up from his house on Sunday”, he said, “and we are going to see in his birthday together.”

Her eyes widened.

“Together together, or just together?” she asked.

“You need a new dictionary”, he laughed. “Together in the Biblical sense. Cas has said that he is as impatient as I am, so we will do the deed at midnight. And hopefully spend much of the eighteenth tied together.”

“Ugh!” she exclaimed. “Too much information!”

He grinned. It was good to gross out the Queen of Moondor occasionally.

+~+~+

It was a little mortifying to Dean just how many people seemed to have been aware of his infatuation with the omega, that when they first walked out in the town he received more than one 'it's about bloody time!'. But he had a warm omega nestling into his body, and it passed what was a painful (in every sense) and overly long (also in every sense) time until Castiel's birthday finally deigned to roll around.

The only bad thing about the lead-up was formally collecting his mate from the cottage, and getting the thumbs-up from his mother as he left. Fortunately Colonel Brandon had taken Gabriel to meet his young charge Stephanie up in Somersetshire, so at least Castiel was spared that, although his younger brother waving a handkerchief and faking tears as he went was almost as annoying. Honestly, it was enough to make him want to run away to Graitney!

The day before, Colonel Brandon had signed over the Delaford living to Dean, which fortuitously came with its own house. So it was to Cherry-Tree Cottage that he drove Castiel, their first home together. They kissed and went inside.

We shall leave them at this point as they become husband and mate, as some things should remain private. I shall just remark that the cottage lies over half a mile from the nearest residential dwelling, and that for what transpires between Dean and Castiel over the ensuing days, that distance is most definitely a Good Thing for the people of Delaford.

+~+~+

“So?” Charlie grinned when she met him five days later. “Was it good?”

Dean just glared at her. Even the effort to move his facial muscles hurt.

“He broke me!” he complained. “I ache all over!”

“You always were a whiner”, she grinned. “I think.....”

She stopped, her eyes widening.

“Is that a claiming-bite?” she asked incredulously. “You let him bite you?”

“You should see where he put the other one”, Dean said, yawning but enjoying her wince. He shifted in his chair, and his eyes watered. “Ow! I tell you, he broke me!”

“I seem to recall it is the omega who ends up shattered from having an alpha inside of them for the first time”, she grinned. “It is not as if.....”

She stopped again. Dean had turned bright red.

“Oh you did not!” she said incredulously.

“I did”, Dean said, blushing even more. “He insisted. Turn and turn about for everything; biting, knotting.... the works!”

“Dean! Way, way too much information!”

“And he is not even in heat, Charlie”, Dean sighed. “When he is, he will surely end me!”

“Probably”, she smiled. “But what a way to go!”

+~+~+

As things turned out however, the run of shocks and surprises in Mr. Dean Ferrers' life - both welcome and unwelcome - was far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A living (or benefice) was a church post for which the beneficiary received part of the tithes (church taxes) in return for certain religious, spiritual and moral duties. They were usually the property of the local landowner, and so tended to be kept within families.  
> The 'Graitney' reference related to Lord Hardwicke's Act (1753), which had been aimed at stopping forced marriages or elopements by forcing the marriage to be publicly announced weeks beforehand. However, when in the 1770s a fast road to Scotland (which had its own laws) was opened, couples eloped there and were often married at Graitney (now Gretna Green), the first village across the border, where Scots law allowed the blacksmith to perform the service over the anvil. This loophole was eventually closed in 1856, but many couples are still wed in the village today, and can be blessed in the original blacksmith's forge.


	23. Public And Private

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23\. What happened next, including two weddings, a broken engagement, a dashing of hopes and a timely heat.

Mr. Castiel Dashwood (soon to be Monseigneur Dean Ferrers) considered himself to be fairly unflappable. But when he joined Charlie for a pre-wedding coffee that cold October Monday, the red-head was immediately concerned by the look on his face.

“You are not getting second thoughts?” she asked anxiously. “The big day is tomorrow.”

“Of course not”, Castiel said. “Sorry I am late; I know you said you had some news for me, but I encountered Lady Amara in the town.”

“Yes, she said she was going into town for some reason.....”

“And she thanked me!”

His friend stared at him in amazement.

“She did what?” she asked, clearly stunned.

“For my being honest with her that time and confirming what she had been told about Dean”, Castiel said. “Remember how Mrs. Moseley had visited her, shortly before Samuel Ferrers? Our town seer had warned her against any precipitate actions concerning her trip to London, and as a result Lady Amara undertook certain inquiries of her own that confirmed what I had told her.”

His friend's smile widened.

“And so it proved?” she asked.

“She settled a small sum on Samuel Ferrers and implied that the rest was guaranteed”, Castiel said, “but in fact she held off from making the final transfer until she had ascertained his true character. Her inquiries confirmed that he was intending to marry your sister the minute that she put pen to paper. So she implied to him that all was done and he had the bulk of her twenty thousand, which was why he went and made his engagement public. And now all he has is the initial money she gave him and, of course, his future wife's small allowance.”

“Ruby will be livid!” Charlie grinned. “She thought that by marrying twenty thousand – whoops, I meant Mr. Samuel Ferrers! - she would then be catapulted to the very top stratum of society. Instead, she will be struggling to make ends meet. Oh dear how sad never mind.”

Castiel smiled at her obvious insincerity.

“Indeed” Castiel said seriously. “One really has to feel some sympathy for her and her soon-to-be husband.”

The two looked at each other.

“Not!” they said in unison.

+~+~+

Castiel stood outside the church, still dazed. He was now Monseigneur Castiel Ferrers, rightful mate of Mr. Dean Ferrers, and in a few moments Dean would return from thanking the vicar and drive him off to...... yes. That.

Undoubtedly the shock of the day had been the attendance at the wedding of Lady Amara. Charlie had explained to Castiel that she and Dorothy had persuaded her that having such a prominent and important landowner absent on such a great occasion might reflect poorly on all sides, but even so her presence had been surprising. Castiel was not sure, but he had thought that the _grande dame_ had had something perilously approaching the beginnings of a smile at one stage. 

No, he must surely have imagined it.

The town had been distracted from the two weddings by the continued presence of Mr. Iacobus Black, who remained in his cottage on the Dark Barton estate. Nothing was known of his background, despite the best efforts of the valley gossips, and it had been initially assumed that he was some sort of relation who was intended to be Lady Amara's new heir. Except that Charlie's initial assessment of his health had proven accurate, and he was not expected to live for long. Certain it was that he was never seen around Barton Ferrers, his food and other needs being supplied via Darkside.

Castiel had in addition been worried by his mother, who had been unusually pensive of late. Of course she had been more than kept busy with all the plans for her sons' weddings, but the other day Castiel had returned home and found her reading a science book, of all things! He had wanted to ask if she was all right, but had not been able to think of a polite way to phrase it (Samandriel had already tried the impolite way, and was still sporting a red ear some hours later). 

These distractions had however all been put aside when Gabriel had been married to Lucifer Brandon at Delaford the week before. Fortunately both the new acquisitions to the Dashwood family had eschewed the traditional biting of a claim-mark during the service, preferring to kiss an established mark. Indeed, at their own wedding just now Dean had gone on for so long that Sir Robert, who had given Castiel away, had had to make a pointed cough. Thrice, to the amusement of the congregation.

The omega smiled as he saw Dean finally coming over to him, and the alpha – his alpha! - kissed him before helping him into their carriage. It was, Castiel thought, surprisingly warm for early autumn....

Oh.

Those statistics that said True Mates had an increased chance of eliciting a wedding-heat were suddenly no longer statistics. 

+~+~+

For some time afterwards, the dust left in the wake of a carriage driven at speed only slowly settles back to earth, whilst at a cottage that is mercifully well-removed from any other human habitation, a door slams behind two figures who are clearly intent on only one thing....

No, this is where we will leave them. Some things are private, after all.

Come away from that window at once!

+~+~+

It was a full week before what was left of Mr. Dean Ferrers was seen limping into town, looking decidedly the worse for wear and moaning at every step (no, horseback-riding was definitely _not_ an option, and he had only gotten this far on the promise of pie!), whilst his omega mate strutted smugly beside him. The eternally dour Rufus Turner reported that they passed his smithy as two minutes after eleven in the morning, which meant that Mrs. Shepherd scooped the pool.

ΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩ

And that's all, folks – for now. But the (mis-)adventures of nineteenth-century Cas and Dean continue in the next instalment of _The Dashwood Inheritance: Black And Blue_. Set two years into the future, it starts when a young stranger rides into town, and death walks abroad in the Culm Valley..... 


End file.
